


Wonderwall

by thanks_google



Series: Red Right Hand [1]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Gunshot Wounds, Major Character Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad Tommy Shelby, Serious Injuries, Stabbing, Tommy Shelby Needs a Hug, Vomiting, Whump, World War I, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:27:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 46
Words: 48,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28854294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanks_google/pseuds/thanks_google
Summary: My version of Tommy Shelby's story all the way from leaving for WW1 to returning from WW2.I wrote this about a year and a half ago but it takes up all my heart
Relationships: Ada Shelby & Tommy Shelby, Arthur Shelby & Tommy Shelby, Finn Shelby & Tommy Shelby, Grace Burgess/Tommy Shelby, Greta Jurossi/Tommy Shelby
Series: Red Right Hand [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120859
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter One

Small Heath, Birmingham  
1916

Thomas waited around Greta’s bedside for her to wake up for months. He cried and almost got thrown out for spending too much time with her; the doctors were worried about his own wellbeing, while his own girlfriend was on her deathbed. 

“It’s okay to let go, Greta. It’s okay,” Tommy said to her in the final days, when she was struggling most. He cried over her body as she lay in a deep coma for five months. At first he prayed for her, until he lost his faith. He then begged and hoped. Eventually he stopped hoping for a miracle, he knew it would never be okay. “Greta,” he cried. “I promised you I’d change the world. I will not break that promise.” The final words he spoke to her, before she died just minutes later. 

it was Thomas who found her in her room, stone cold days later. After rushing her straight to the hospital, he recalled back to the days they spent together, running through the streets of Birmingham. their shared love of horses meaning they could ride and race and laugh. The weekend in Blackpool they spent together. Thomas wished more than anything they could have one more weekend together. 

Arthur had attempted to commit suicide just days earlier. he used a rope from the BSA factory, but the rope was weak and snapped, so Arthur failed in his attempt. 

He was sitting in his office just days after the funeral, when Polly came in to talk to him about the books. He was sitting with his head looking down into his stomach, his hands spread across the rim of the desk, the same way he always had when he was thinking. “Thomas,” Polly began. “I’d ask if you were okay, but you won’t reply to me if I ask you that.” There was a moment's silence. “Thomas, you have to let me in. We can’t help you unless you talk.”  
Tom simply shook his head. To this, Polly left without further words. Ada was next in. 

“Tommy,” she began. “Words can’t explain what it’s like. All I can say is that when we lost mum, you didn’t leave my side. You looked after me. I can only hope to do the same for you.”

“I see her, Ada,” Tommy explained. “When I have opium. I see her; she talks to me. I talked to her. She doesn’t blame me. She accepts me.”

“Tommy, you do know she is not really there, don’t you brother?”

“Of course, Ada. But in those moments, it feels as though she really is.”

“Tom, you went through this when mum died. You saw her in your dreams; went mad worrying about her, wanting to see her more. When she stopped seeing you in your dreams, you stopped sleeping. I was only young, but I remember it. It hurt me to see you like that, Tommy. I don’t want to see you like that again.”

“Don’t worry, Ada. I’m okay.”

“No. My nephews are not going to fucking war!” Polly shouted. “Or there will be no business to run, no family to feed. You go to war, you won’t come back.” Arthur and Thomas had been talking about the First World War for days, how now they were letting ordinary men sign up. They wanted to fight for their country. 

“We want to protect our home, Pol,” Tommy explained.

“There’ll be no home to come back to if you boys leave,” Polly claimed. “And you know John will want to come too. He’s only seventeen!” And in the moment, John walked through the doors.

“I’ve been listening, through the door. I want to come with you, Arthur, Tommy,” John explained.

“See, I told you!” Polly exclaimed. 

“Let ‘im come, Pol. He’ll do it anyway, whether you like it or not. He’ll join us and stay with us, or he’ll join after us, and we won’t see him again,” Tommy explained. “He’ll be safer with us, Pol. We can look after him.”

And so they did, walked to their local registry office, signed up. Same medical test as they all got; John had to lie and say he was eighteen. They said their goodbyes to everyone at home, as though they would never see them again. Arthur and Tommy knew there was a good chance they never would, while John joined for the sport, still unaware of the real dangers. 

100 men in uniform, all on one train station platform, surrounded by friends and family, wives and daughters. Arthur, John, and Thomas were among the handful of men ready to get on a train to Dover, then the boat to France. 

“We’ll be waiting for you to come home,” Ada said as she hugged the brothers.

“Write to me, boys,” Polly said through tears. 

“Of course, Polly,” Tommy smiled. 

“We’ll miss you. Look after the shop, don’t take fuck all from anybody till we’re back,” John explained.

“Common boys, gotta get a good seat,” Arthur explained, trying to hold back tears. The brothers gave their final embraces, before boarding the train.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy's experience in the trenches and how he became a sergeant Major

The whistle to go over the top was becoming familiar, sounding no longer like a signal, but more like screaming men. The days they spent in the trenches was petrifying, like sending men into a torture chamber, with only some able to survive. Thomas, John, Arthur, and their Sniper, Barney, along with three men they met from Small Heath when registering: Daniel Owens, Freddie Thorne, and Jeremiah. 

With every shell that fell and gun that fired, Tommy jumped and shook. Every man he killed, Tommy shook like he never had killed before. Barney was a massively traumatised man. The Birmingham brothers feared they would soon be the same. His entire job was to shoot men who came their way. He had killed hundreds already, men who had a family to go back to, mouths to feed. God knew some of the men he killed could’ve been on his side. 

The moment the officer tells them to go over the top is the heart sinking moment when they find out their comrades are dead. And they know without anyone even telling. Watch them fall next to them. The whistle to climb the ladder into No-man’s-land, where it is every man for themselves. Running desperately to the next trench. Shells dropping everywhere, gunshots and land mines. Charging, terrified at the Triple Alliance, who are feeling the same. If you even make it to the next trench, the next mission is to go back and save your injured comrades. With the dead ones? Use them as shields above your trench to make the all higher. Like objects. 

Tommy looked down to the floor of the trench, to see their superior officer was losing his mind, shaking. As Thomas watched this unfold, the officer stood up, and began to climb up the trench, as though he were going to sacrifice himself to the enemy. Tommy saw this, remembering this was the officer who held instructions on the best time to go over the top, the cracked coding from the German officers as to what their strategies were. Everything that would save thousands of allied lives from death. And he was sacrificing all of that for his own good. To stop the gunfire in his head. 

Tommy tried to think of ways he could stop this man, but no one else was around, and it was too late to pull him back down. In nothing but confusion, the enemy hadn’t shot him down yet. Everything happened in slow motion. Tommy knew there was only one thing he could do. Climbing swiftly up the ladder, Thomas leaped in front of the officer, two bullets hitting him as he did. He pushed the officer down to the trenches, and fell to the floor. Boys who had now gathered pulled Tommy down. He bit onto a piece of cloth to stop him screaming while two of the boys pulled the bullets from him. It was the first bullet he had taken. The first one. It felt good to have saved him. 

Later that evening, the field Marshall pulled him aside. “What you did today, Private…”

“Shelby, sir.”

“What you did today, Private Shelby, was stupid, out of the blue, and radiculous, and so risky and dangerous that I should send you to be court marshalled.”

“Sir, he had-”

“However, Shelby. You thought ahead, and you thought fast. For that, your actions were courageous and ambitious. I have every right to award you a promotion to Sergeant Major, which I will, and nominate you for medals.”

“Thank you, sir.” After receiving an insignia of Sergeant Major, Tommy returned to the trenches, where soldiers now followed his orders. Where soldiers now saluted to him. It was an experience, not a good one, but one better than the position he was in before. However, every man that died in his hands was now his responsibility, and that thought didn’t fail to stay in his head. 

Thomas couldn’t stand the thought of going over the top one more time, or of sending any more innocent Privates over the top. Luckily, they were saved. A training officer from the clay-kickers. He lined the men left from the Regiment, along with anyone else who’d ended up with them. 

«I have been sent here to gather volunteers to enter the tunnels. Your job would be digging far into the French earth, setting land-mines, following with wires, blowing the Jerry’s trenches above, « he began. « You will spend just a week in training, then straight into the tunnels. I know it’s the seventh layer of hell up here, but the devil must’ve created a whole new hell down there. You may want more than anything to get out of here, but I must warn you that we require your humane services because the majority of our clay-kickers are dead. » Silence. « So, any volunteers if not I’ll move onto the next fuckin’ trench. »

A voice appeared from the crowd: « Sergeant Major Thomas Shelby, Sir. » His comrades gasped as he walked to stand in front of him. Tom looked at John, looked at Arthur, looked at the others, who all knew what they would have to do next.   
« Private Arthur Shelby, Sir »  
« Private John Shelby, Sir »

After a moment's hesitation, Danny, Jeremiah and Freddie also joined. Regret flooded their faces, Tommy was beginning to understand what he dragged his own brothers and friends into. They had to, they couldn’t let him die down there without his brothers as friends.


	3. Chapter Three

Distant cries and screams resulted in wide eyes among the bodies, buried alive under the fields of France. No bullets left in their guns, the sound of shovels, coming closer, closer, closer. Every day went by, the boys became weaker as the shovels of the enemy became closer. They could not dig any further, for fear of running into the Triple Alliance, as the cries became louder, and the bullets and shells above their heads came closer as Britain gave up territory. Daniel Owen’s eyes held themselves wide as though they were held open by fish hooks. They were empty, the thousands of bodies he’d already seen, the hundreds of men he’d seen die in front of his very eyes, the other hundreds of men he’d killed himself, whether by his own red hands, or by the loud scream of their shooting Rifle.

Jeremiah, Small Heath’s preacher, suggested they sang to pass the time. As the boys sang ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’, John comforted Arthur as tears streamed down his cheek. Arthur was needed back home, and the boys were beginning to worry they would never return to England. Thomas proposed a thought that if they survived this, and more optimistically, if they lived long enough to return home to the broken town of Birmingham, they would take life as it comes, and with that, take death as it comes. And with that, they agreed that when each other died, they would speak ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’ over their body.

_Dear Thomas  
It’s been weird without you and the boys here. I’ve already written to John and Arthur, who have replied to me already. They instructed me not to write to you, but I could not resist. Things are okay at home, but it’s strange being in the Garrison. Harry is allowing women to buy drinks on their own, but it’s different without the young men who are always there. You don’t have to reply, but it would mean something,  
We’re worried about Arthur. You know how he tried to kill himself a while back, look after him. Look after John, he’s got all the kids waiting for him back in Birmingham. We’ve all done our bit to look after them, but Johns has been different since Martha passed.   
I know how you are, but be careful, Thomas. You are ambitious and intelligent, and that’s how you’ll get killed  
But most of all, look after yourself, Tom. Because you never do, and without you, they’ll crumble.   
All my love  
Polly Shelby (Elizabeth Gray)_

The hole in which they entered the tunnel collapsed behind them, so there was no return. The boys were weak, dehydrated, shell-shocked, and beginning to starve. The dust, dirt, mud, was all in their lungs as they struggled not to make a noise. In the tunnels, a small cry could be heard by the enemy, let alone a cough or the mud scraping against the back of their throats. 

The shovels began to come closer, frighteningly close now, the whispers of German slurs coming from the same direction, coming closer. Now they could distinctly hear the voices of men close enough now they could hear their breath. Meters away. A few picks of the shovel against the wet and dangerous mud of the French earth, and the comrades would be compost in the soil.

« They’re close, really fucking close, » Jeremiah explained. « I reckon thirty seconds left to live. » 

« Make your peace, boys, » Arthur said. 

“I’ll go in front,” Thomas explained, crawling silently around John and Freddie. 

“Be careful, Tom,” Freddie pleaded. 

“Yeah, careful Tom,” Arthur agreed, patting Sergeant Shelby on the back as an assurance of his trust. 

The dark smudges across his face and under his eyes showed he didn’t care if he was shot dead in that moment, the voices in his head, the voices across a mere few feet of mud. All Thomas could imagine was the agony and sorrow of his pain. The pain in his body, and he the pain in his head, more importantly. Jeremiah prayed, so did Arthur and Danny. John and Freddie were worried, but Thomas, on his hands and knees at the front of the comrades, had no emotion but somewhat happiness that it could all be over soon. He stared deeply at the wall of stone, listening to the metal shovels against the mud, getting louder with every swing. 

And in that moment, the final shovel erected valiantly through the soft clay, and the battle began. The enemy most certainly had the upper hand, the bullets in their guns and knives in their hands there in place of the ones in the boys’. The man who entered first showed no mercy in the eye contact he made with Thomas before he shot him in the stomach. Point-blank, the blow sending Thomas falling onto Daniel, who cradled his head to protect it from further injury. 

“FUCK!” Tommy screamed as he held his stomach hopelessly trying to stop the blood flow, blood staining his right hand red. Blood poured out like a broken bottle of rum. Thomas’ shirt was once white, then grey and brown, now it was a deep red of the kind only the deepest cuts could muster. then the man behind proceeded to stab him with a shard of glass twice. Everything went numb. He couldn’t feel anything but his heart beat slowing down rapidly in his chest. His vision blurred in and out, every second feeling like more and more. Then he felt everything, all at once. Every drop of blood that left his body felt like ten more. Like burning coal or mustard gas across his torso. Every breath he took was yet another bullet wound to the heart. It was a burning sensation, like hot tar had been poured through to every organ. His body in shock, Tommy was sick down his front. « He’ll choke, » Freddie explained to Jeremiah before they sat him up. « The sick’ll get caught in his throat unless we lean him forward. » Tommy kept being sick, mostly yellow and orange, with streaks of dark red blood. Countless times he threw up, over and over. 

In anger and disgust at what that waste of a man had just done, John and Arthur, Tom’s own brothers, crawled with readiness past Danny and their brother, strangling to death each man who stood in their way. Danny, Jeremiah and Freddie dragged Tom back to stop further injury, the track of blood following him. Thomas’ legs dragged like sacks as each comrade had an arm under his armpit as they dragged him back as far as they could. His eyes were wide and his comrades could almost feel the pain and agony their friend was going through. 

Thomas screamed in agony, a blood- curdling scream, one misunderstood at the picture house and in plays. As the screams and the breathing became further spaced out, and the tension he held against his body to stop the pain, relaxed, the boys became increasingly worried, Tommy’s muddy, sunken face becoming grey. His eyes began to flicker open and shut, the length of time open being originally significantly longer than shut, but was getting shorter and shorter until his eyes did not open. The tight grip he held against the clay became loose. “Fuck,” exclaimed Arthur, assisting the boys in taking Thomas’ above-waist clothing from his loose body. Tommy groaned and scoffed quietly. It appeared he was making words, and the only ones they could make out were ‘in the bleak midwinter’ which sent Arthur crying. Tommy knew he was a dead man, dreading the poor miner after him who will dig up his decomposed body. 

As tears streamed down his face, both Thomas’ and Arthur’s, John pushed him away, “Arthur, you’re not in your right mind. Sit back, have a rest. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay, Arthur.” Arthur nodded and cradled his head in his hands.  
Jeremiah used the blades from their caps to rip the bullet from his stomach. John dug deep into his rucksack to find the bandages the officer gave him. They all agreed to save them for a true emergency, which this most certainly was.   
“Sit ‘im up,” he said, gesturing for his comrades to help him. When they did this, John wrapped the bandages tightly around him as though he were a mummy prepared for the afterlife, which Thomas was. 

_Dear Thomas,  
Tom, you haven’t replied in weeks. Neither had John or Arthur. I even sent a letter to your superior officer. they haven’t heard from you in weeks. They think your tunnel collapsed. We’re worried sick. I really hope you're okay. Myself, Ada, Johnny, Curly, Harry, Lizzie, We all miss you. We all hope you’re okay. Kittie (Greta’s suster) has also been worried sick. I know you never got along the best but she misses you, too. She's struggling, Tom. With Greta gone, half of Birmingham at War, including her husband, who’s she’s just been informed has passed, she has sought help from the BSA factory. Tom, nothing goes on in the factory without you knowing. about it, so I think it important to tell you. I know you always advocate gender equality at work, but she’s even building automobiles.  
Hope you’re well, we’re praying for you. We’re very worried so hope to hear from you very soon  
All my love  
Polly Gray _

_Dear Aunt Pol  
I’m not certain when you will receive this, because we are currently trapped in the tunnels. I don’t want to worry you, Pol, but Tommy is in a lot of pain, and we’re not sure if he will pull through. He was shot, and stabbed. Shot point blank by the Prussians. He’s in a very bad way, and we can’t get him treated because none of us are any good at shovelling, we do the other jobs. We’ve tried, but haven’t gotten far at all. we’re hoping and praying that he will be okay, that we’ll get him back to the medic in time. we keep pushing but it’s very slow; the tunnel collapsed behind us and we are cut off from the retreat. i don’t know what to do; arthur is so worried, pol. i’m worried. we’re all worried for him. i do hope he is okay, but there’s really not much hope. i don’t know were the bullet hit but he’s very sick. very. i don’t know if he’ll make it to the time you receive this letter.   
john_

Slowly, Tom regained consciousness, drifting in and out. His comrades rushed over to him, to show him they hadn’t left. He felt everything, as though everything he’d ever experienced was nothing compared to the terror. And he couldn’t even leave. It took a few hours for Thomas to be able to produce words again, like he was being restrained to be himself, something which he knew would never happen. 

“Are we in heaven?” Tommy asked, taking slow, deep breaths through his mouth as he breathed. 

“More like fucking ‘ell, eh Tom?” Freddie smiled. The relationship between Fred and Tommy had not been the greatest, but the expression on Freddie’s face was a genuine exclamation of relief that he had survived, not only because he was in charge of the group, but because they had been friends and foes since childhood. 

“You okay, Tom?” Arthur asked, still weeping with worry for his kid brother.

“Don’t worry about me, brother. I’ll be fine. I’ve just had a bit of an accident,” he joked as he tried to sit up, but was pushed down by his comrades.

“You need rest, Tom,” Danny explained. “It’s okay, A couple more days, and we’ll keep pushing.”

“How long have I been out?” Thomas asked, the words struggling to tumble out of his traumatised face, speaking as he breathed out. His head moved about like a rat in a cage, and his eyes darted from person to person, making sure no one passed while he was gone. 

“Haven't a fucking clue. Long enough for us to be worried.” Words fell out of Arthur’s mouth before he had a chance to think about them. Tom was a determined man, a businessman back in Small Heath, staying in a tunnel for days, weeks, making no progress wasn’t his idea of productivity. Arthur noticed what he said, and he knew Tom’s response would be either violent, or at least, disagreeable. He continued anyway. “But Tom, it doesn’t matter how long we’re down here. Whether we’re here for another three months waiting for you, or if we are by the end of the week. I’m sure we can make it a few more days, at least. I can’t lose you. I can’t. it’s more important that you get better, so we can push on.”  
“Me neither, you’re me brother. A simple case of determination, I’m not letting that take my brother. It already killed our mother,” John said, under his breath. His whole life, John was the younger brother, the forgotten one. The one everyone assumed was weak. His outburst of emotion was unexpected, and John was cautious it would be the cause of judgement.

The Shelby brothers’ mother had killed herself not long after giving birth to the youngest Shelby son, Finn, who was too young to fight in France. She drowned herself in the canal. Their grandfather died the same way. Uncle Charlie says it runs in the family. In the Shelby blood. Sometimes Tommy thinks it would be easier to dispatch himself. His sister, Ada, and the love of Aunt Polly always stopped him.   
The boys expected Tommy’s response to be the cause of someone else’s injury, or the further injury of himself. But this did not happen. Tommy did not move, until he did. 

Thomas’ eyes darted to the tunnel in front of him. His past girlfriend, Greta, had died just before his boat to France. He hadn’t seen her spirit since, but her Gypsy spirit travelled there to be with him; to comfort him.

“Greta?” 

“It’s okay, Thomas. It’s okay to let go. It’s easy, fast, then the pain will be gone, even the pain in your head,” Greta told him. 

“I can’t Greta. The company, the family. I can’t. Not now. Pol, Arthur, John, Finn, I couldn’t. I couldn’t die knowing I would never see them again.”

“You okay, Tom?” asked John. Tommy sat up, and pushed uneasily the hands of Jeremiah and Freddie who tried to stop him. Thomas struggled along a few feet, slightly bringing himself away from the others. He sat with his knees half up, his elbows resting against them, his hands cupping his sunken eyes. 

“Why did you go, Greta?” Tommy whispered; eyes wide open as if they had never shut. They hadn’t, really. Not since France. “Why did you have to go?” Tommy sat at her bedside for months before she passed. When she did, he left for France just a few months later. Thomas was not a man of religion, but loved and trusted Greta so much he would do anything for her. And he did, he even signed up to the BSA Union and even the Birmingham Communist group. Two groups he did not believe had the best interests of the country. Thomas believed religion was a foolish answer to a foolish question. He did it for her. To make her happy. Tommy recalled this as he looked into Greta’s eyes in front of him. 

Tom’s hands began to shake nervously, uncontrollably. They had done since he killed the first man. Shook continuously. But never like this, as though he had not seen light before. Shook like the hand of a normal man, not a gangster, or a soldier. 

“Tom, you okay? You’re frightening me,” Arthur worried. Arthur always worried when it came to family. 

“Brother, I know it’s been difficult since Greta, but she’s in the past. We can never move on unless we help each other out. it’s like with Martha, Tom. They’re just, gone. But we can’t help you unless you talk. You need to let us in sometimes, in your head,” John explained. He thought it would be comforting, but Tommy did not reply, as if he hadn’t even heard him. Possibly he hadn’t, Greta still talking to him. Or the other voice who always whispered. Perhaps Tommy was listening to that. or the sound of the shovels he could still hear. Whether they were real, or in his head, he had to listen. 

Freddie took over, “Look, Tom. I was going to have this meself, if one of us passed, but if you spend another minute like this you will pass. Smuggled it past the officers. Opium, for the pain in the ‘ead.” He opened his pocket hesitantly, and passed a small glass with a liquid inside to Tommy, holding it out for him to take. Thomas sighed and slapped it against the floor. Not with rage. No. He hadn’t drank or eaten in days, yet his response was justified to him. The glass shattered against the floor and liquid opium spilled across the mud, sinking into it, as though it was trying to escape. “Tom, that’s me own stuff. I gave it to-“ he was interrupted by the man to his left, speaking as he breathed in. 

“No, Freddie. You don’t understand. The opium makes it worse. It brings her here,” Tommy said, looking straight into the insides of Freddie’s eyes. 

Tommy’s eyes shut, and he collapsed asleep to the floor. Exhaustion filled his body like the Mustard gas likely filling the air and his lungs. This was unprecedented. He had slept little since Greta left, and even less since France. In fact, the boys couldn’t remember the last time he rested. 

“Common, lads, maybe we should get some rest too,” Danny suggested. “Sorry about the opium, Fred.” 

“It’s okay, Dan. I get it,” Freddie replied. 

Jeremiah agreed, “We need to pray for Tommy. He’s struggling more than you think.”

_Dear Thomas  
We’re still very worried. We still haven’t heard from you in weeks. The officer still hasn’t seen you since your last dispatch underground. We are praying for you and the boys, and the girls in the church are too. We hope to see you soon and I'd love to hear from you, as you still haven’t replied to any of my letters. If you and the boys are in trouble, we hope for the best and would like to see you back in England.   
All My Love  
Aunt Polly _


	4. Chapter Four

Just a mere few minutes later, Tommy awoke, after suffering another nightmare. The flashbacks of what happened just days before. The shovels against the mud, coming closer. His head spun like yarns of wool. A great migraine filled his head, spitting itself into every crevice, spreading itself to his body, too. Since he woke up after the accident, he hadn’t felt the pain. Now it was coming all but at once, as though it held itself back to give him time to adjust. Feeling pain all at once is worse than feeling it day to day, like everyone else does. Not Tommy. The pain is too great.

Lightning strikes of agony spread through his body like a swarm of angered wasps inside of him. He couldn’t help but let out a cry. Freddie was the only one to wake up to this. “You okay, Tom? I know it hurts,” Freddie empathised. 

“I’m sorry about your opium, brother,” Tom worried, a genuine worry. 

“It’s okay, Tommy. I understand.”

“I don’t, though.” 

“What do you mean, Tom?”

“I haven’t seen Greta since I last took opium, and that was before we even left England. It’s never happened without. When you offered it, me brain told me it was a bomb, or a razor. I smacked it away in fear. In fear, Freddie. What is wrong with me? You’ve never seen me scared.”

“Tom, don’t be angry with me…”

“What, Freddie?”

“When you were unconscious, I put some opium in your mouth. I didn’t know whether you were going to make it. I didn’t want your last memory to be of pain.” Thomas ignored Freddie’s request to stay calm, lunging towards him, hands around Freddie’s throat. He was the cause of the immense pain he felt, the cause of his sighting, the reason he’s like this now. The other comrades woke up to this, pulling Tommy off him, and pinning his arms and legs on the ground. He was breathing heavily and fast. 

It appeared the trauma hit Tommy like a collapsed tunnel. He shook, his whole body this time. His blue eyes were wide so the boys could see the white behind them. “They’re coming, they’re coming,” Tommy shouted, petrified with fear. 

“It’s okay, Tom. We’ve been here weeks; they think we’re dead. They’re not coming back,” Arthur explained. 

“No, Arthur, they’re coming. I can feel it. We need to get out of here. We need to dig back up to the resort.” He pulled the hands off his hands, and sat up, starting to crawl to his shovel.

“No, Tom, you need to rest.”

“I’m the best kicker here, I have to. We don’t have enough time to procrastinate.” He picked his shovel up and began to dig against the mud, the direction they came from.

“Tom, it’s not safe, it’s collapsed,” Jeremiah explained.

“Make it safe, Jeremiah, and I’ll go on,” Tommy demanded, continuing to dig with too much effort, with too little results. 

He didn’t know what happened, but he woke up with sick down his front, leaning against the wall he had been digging. “Tom, you okay?” asked John. Thomas scoffed as though he had tried to speak, but it wouldn’t let him. 

“What happened?” Tommy asked, confused as to the seemingly unpredicted time jump. He couldn’t remember anything since the nightmare.

“You had your hands around Freddie’s neck, but we got you off. Then you insisted they were coming, and rushed over to your shovel. You were digging too ‘ard, too little energy,” Arthur began. “We tried to make you stop, but you kept insisting that you could hear the shovels getting closer. Then you were collapsed and were sick. None of us could hear the shovels, so we assumed you had an… episode.”

“No, I don’t do that. I’m fine. I must have just… had a rush of adrenaline to the head.”

“No, Tommy, you’re not okay. You need to rest,” Freddie explained.

“But you are right, we need to get you back to the resort. We’ll dig back and get you to the medic. You might even get sent home,” continued Jeremiah.

“I’m not leaving without you,” Tommy pleaded to Arthur and John.

The boys began to dig. Though they would never be as good a kicker as Tommy, it was better than dying down there. 

After what felt like it had been a lifetime, the ladder used to bring them down was dug into. A sigh of relief came out of their mouths as Freddie and Danny dropped their shovels, which had been scraping for hours on end. “What are we gonna do about Tom,” asked Jeremiah.

“I’m okay, I can go on,” he replied.

“No, Tom, we’ll carry you up.”

And they did. Slowly, they carried Thomas up, behind the rest of them. At some point in the journey, he lost consciousness, and woke up some time later in the medic’s ward. Arthur and John were there by his side. Arthur was crying, as he usually did when his brother was in trouble. Arthur cried a lot recently… 

_Dear Sergeant Thomas Shelby  
Ada requests I give you her regards, as she is severely worried about you. And so am I, Thomas. I have been going to church more regularly than usual. Charlie and Johnny are both very worried, and Finn is concerned about his big brother. Arthur told us what happened, and I want to go and cut the eyes of whoever did that to you, but I’m told Arthur and John took care of him. In the usual way, I'd ask Jeremiah to pray for you, but he’s not here. I asked the boys to look after you. He told us you will be okay, that it’s about 60 - 40 in death’s favour. You know I don’t believe in the numbers of statistics but I love you Tom, and couldn’t bear to get the letter home saying you died. _

_They did tell me about another thing, too. Greta was a good woman, Tom. You looked after each other, but you mustn’t take any more opium. it’s what brings on the visions. The newspapers tell us about something soldiers have been suffering with. They call it shell shock. I am aware this may be something you have. Though I know you are too stubborn to see the nurse, I've told the boys to make sure you’re okay. You have to let them in, Thomas._

_I can’t imagine what it’s like down there, but you boys are the only men i could imagine getting the job done. Tom. I know it’s been difficult but I must say that I’m very worried about you. Please just let me know you’re okay. John underestimates things because he doesn’t want to worry me, and Arthur over-exaggerates everything because he’s scared, Tom. You talk sense, logic, truth, so let me know that John is right and Arthur is not._  
All my love  
Polly Gray 

“Wh- wha-,” Tommy said, confused. 

“We brought you up. You were out by the time we got here. It’s only been a day; I swear we haven’t left. Jeremiah, Freddie and Danny had to go back in, but they gave us until you were sent home or reinstructed. You’re not going back down there,” Arthur explained.

“No, brother. I will. It was me who volunteered first anyway. You volunteered with me so I didn’t have to die alone. I’m not letting you be last. I’m going back down.”

“No, Tom, it’s not even a possibility. We told them everything. They said there was no chance of you going back down there. After what you did to yourself. After what they did to you. They’re going to send you back to the trenches,” John continued.

“No, no. I’m not going back there. It’s not happening. You saw Barny, you saw what he’s like now. We went down in the tunnels because it meant not as much death. I’m not going back there. You’ll have to talk to him. I’m not going back.” Arthur and John exchanged a worried look.

“Okay, we’ll talk to him, but I’m making no promises, okay?” Arthur compromised. “Don’t try anything. You’re not leaving this bed until I say so.”

“Fine, but you talk to him. I’m going in the tunnels or I’m going home,” Tommy pleaded. “And I am not going home.”

They returned a short while later, looking pale and worried. “What, are they going to make me go back? I can’t, brother. I won’t,” Tommy panicked.

“No, Tom, breathe,” Arthur reassured. Thomas did as he was asked, and breathed. “He said you could return home. After we explained you ‘wouldn’t leave without us’, he agreed to let you go back down in the tunnels.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Tom replied, a slight relief spreading across his face. “I won’t go back to the front line. I won’t go home without you. It’ll be okay.”

“Tom, are you one hundred percent sure this is what you want. You know what it’s like down there. We saw what you did. I don’t want you to do it to yourself again,” John asked. 

“I can’t have. It’s not me. I’m not Barny. I wouldn’t do that. Maybe it was seeing Greta. Maybe it was the smoke. Or, the claustrophobia. I’m not going mad, brothers, I’m not,” Tommy worried. The boys had not seen him like this since they were kids. Tommy was going mad worried about that same thing. “When do we go back down?” 

“We go down tomorrow. You go down when the nurse says you can.” 

“No, I’m going with you. If you die down there, without me there too, I could never forgive myself.”

“Tom, you can’t. You know you can’t.”

“I am. Brother. See, the medics won’t let me go until the bandages come off, so you need to get me out.” 

“How, Tom?”


	5. Chapter Five

It was a particularly humid day when it happened. Tommy claimed he heard shovels. The boys couldn’t hear it, so assumed he was having another ‘episode’. They didn’t believe him. Thomas’ bandages were still wrapped around his torso, and he was still weak with pain. He claimed he heard the shovels tapping against the damp and unsteady mud of the French tunnels, but they didn’t believe him.

“I swear, boys, I can hear them,” he pleaded. To no avail. 

“Tom, you’ve had it rough, but I’m telling you. There are no shovels. No one knows we’re down here. We’re okay,” Arthur said. 

“They’re getting closer. Arthur, you’re right by th-“ He was cut off yet again by the foreign shovels tapping closely in front of him. His comrades heard them now. They had come. 3 men burst through a thick layer of mud. One attacked Danny, one shot Arthur, and one went for Tommy, strangling him unconscious. He was still a weak man, hardly able to lift his own shovel. Arthur was shot. In the upper right chest. He held his ground, stabbed the man who did so. Too late, he shot the man who strangled Tom. Danny was okay, he was nearly shot, but he too stood his ground, helped by Freddie and Jeremiah. They were dead, the men. 

Every man they killed grew their hands redder. 

Tommy woke up almost immediately, but he was weak, muscles relaxed. He stumbled tiringly to Arthur, who the boys had lying down, topless, as they had before. Tommy helped, this time, rushing through his rucksack as John did, frantically handing them to Jeremiah. His hands shook faster and wider than ever before. He noticed this. He looked at his hand for a moment, before continuing. Danny saw him do this. “Sit down, Tom, get your energy back,” Danny instructed. Tommy did as he was asked, and sat a few feet away from them, as he did before. And as Arthur did before. Everything was feeling all too familiar for Tommy. And when it happened last, someone nearly died. 

“What energy, Dan?” he replied. He hadn’t made eye contact with anyone in days. For all anyone knew, his eyes could’ve been gone. He spent most of the time with his eyes shut, now. Not sleeping, he never slept. He shut his eyes to block out the reality. Sometimes it worked, but mostly, he just saw… it again, and again. 

_Dear Thomas  
Ada insists I say hello on her behalf. She’s been struggling to write recently, with her new job and all, but she has been talking about it, so you should receive that soon. Things are going okay in the shop, but we’re struggling slightly because women don’t bet, women don’t have the money to bet, and all the worthy men are in France. Arthur told me you’re struggling. it’s going to be okay, Tom. I wish you would reply to one of my letters. You’re the only one who hasn’t. Even Freddie sent me his best wishes. Arthur and John send letters every other Sunday. _

_I pray for you and the boys every day, Tom. If you had religion you would be thankful, but the prayers for my good conscience. Kitty (Greta’s sister) has been in contact. I told her what happened and she’s very supportive. She wanted me to ask whether you’ll still be part of the Communist group when you get back. I said I'd ask you but Arthur said all your beliefs are in the mud. I do, too, Tom, but I promised Kitty I would. After what happened to you regarding Greta, I thought it best you know._

_They say the war will not go on much longer. the Triple Alliance is Struggling, so hopefully you’ll be coming back home soon. We can’t wait to see you, Johnny Dogs, Charlie and Curly are over every day. I’m getting a bit sick of it, to be honest but it is nice to have some male company.  
Please write back, Thomas. I would like to hear from you  
All my love  
Aunt Polly_

“Sorry, Tom. I didn’t mean to doubt you,” Freddie pried. “We thought… you know.” He half expected an answer, an acceptance of this at least. Tommy remained silent. Freddie and John exchanged a look, worried about what Tommy could do next. God knows what he’s capable of. 

“We should go up for a bit, Tom, get the mud out your head,” John explained. “We’ll take Arthur to the medic, and you can have a smoke on the rock. And we’ll appreciate it, because we’ll be back down before you know it.”

“I’ll stay down here with Danny and Freddie,” Jeremiah explained. “They’ll only send us back down. We’ll recover the tunnel they dug, and we’ll be on another track by the time you get back.”

“I’ll stay with them. Tom, God knows you need some space. Some time on your own,” explained John, looking at Tom, who didn’t look at him back. Tommy didn’t reply. Again. The boys were beginning to wonder if he couldn’t. they were right. They were unaware that Thomas was scared out of his mind. Not like ever before. Without saying a word, Thomas winced as he crawled with Arthur to the ladder, and assisted him in climbing it. With every step he took, Tommy could feel the pain within. Nowadays he couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t. what pain was physical and what pain was in his head. Whatever it was, it was painful nonetheless. 

Tommy stared out across the field. He could see the men fighting, the shells dropping, the bullets firing, the trenches, the wires, the men dying. He blinked, and it was gone. Tommy started to doubt his own sanity these days. He refused to admit he had been affected by France. He tried his hardest to hide it from his comrades, but he was an emotional man. When he blinked again, he saw it again. The blood, the guns, the pain, the fear. He felt every bullet wound and every shell drop. He saw Barney’s face. His shaking hand after he sniped one of our own. He blinked again, getting up, and it was gone. As the view of the war zone disappeared, he began his overdue reply to Polly. 

_Aunt Polly  
I admit the things have been difficult recently. Arthur is currently in the medical centre. I’m still in bandages myself. They’re talking about sending him home but I'm not sure. There’s no talk of the end of all this over on our end, but I pray it will end soon. I don’t pray, I hope. It does make me feel slightly better to know things are well at home. _

_Please speak to Kitty and explain that I no longer have an interest in communism and my faith has been withdrawn. War has blown religion out of my head, and I no longer have an interest in believing and telling lies of strikes, riots, and revolution. I no longer share the fantasy.  
Sergeant Major Thomas Shelby _

He headed towards the medic tent, where Arthur was staying. “You feeling alright, brother,” Tommy asked him. 

“Never better, Tom,” Arthur replied with relief in his voice. “They’re sending me back to the trenches. I know it’s not what you want but it’s what’s best for me. I’m not going back down there.”

“I strongly disagree with what you’re saying, but i think it’s the best for you. When do you go?”

“My cattle truck off to Gallipoli leaves later. If I don't see you again, I love you brother.”

Thomas said nothing. After a couple moments of staring into the air, he left the room. He smoked his cigarette like it was the last thing he would ever do. He let it burn right to the top where the flame was burning his index finger and thumb. The pain felt good. Finally, Tom threw it into the abis, and readied himself to deliver the news to the boys. 

“You mean he’s not coming down here?” Jeremiah asked, confused. “If he dies out there, or we die down here, we’ll never see him again as though we were merely acquaintances met through the war, instead of a lifetime friend. he’s your brother.”

“Arthur makes his own decisions,” Thomas replies, no expression on his face. “Jeremiah, pray for him. Understood? Right, let’s carry on digging. Anyone hears anything, we tell each other instantly. and there is no fucking doubting each other any more. Arthur’s as good as dead out there, and he’s still at least half alive if this never happened and he were down here.” Tommy kicked with no emotion. When others spoke to him, he did not reply. He didn’t speak of whiskey or horses or whores, but of their route. when someone broached the subject of Arthur, he simply ignored it. Changed the subject. 

He was not the same man he was when he entered. After seeing Arthur leave, after seeing what he saw in the field, he was a different man. “We’ve hit clay,” Tommy said after hours of silence. “Hard clay.”

“Dig a sinkhole so the clay sinks in. Then keep digging,” Danny explained. Tommy did so without further consultance. 

_Dear Thomas  
Hello, it’s Ada. I know I have only written a couple of times but it’s been very busy running the business without you boys. I’ve been looking after John’s kids. Also, Polly said you had only replied to one of her letters not long ago while Arthur and John had replied to quite a few, so i assumed my letter would be unnecessary.   
I hear you’ve been struggling recently. We’re all ever so worried and can’t wait for you to come home so we can share tea and cigarettes. We can talk and make it better, like we always do.   
Like Polly said, they are beginning to talk about the end of the war, so i’m sure you’ll be on the train home before you know it.   
We’re missing you lots   
All my love  
Ada Shelby_

_Dear Ada Shelby,  
My plan wasn’t to return a letter, but I feel it is important to tell you that we are returning home soon. I admit I am looking forward to smelling the shit and smoke of Birmingham, but no man will come back the same. Our train is coming soon, but we cannot know for certain when. Send aunt Poll my apologies for not replying every time, but I receive and read all her letters.   
Thank you for your correspondence,  
Sergeant Major Thomas Shelby _


	6. Chapter Six

The train home was unexpected. It seemed they had been in France for longer than life, and it seemed surreal when their train was bringing them home. To England. Where they belong. The boys had been celebrating Thomas’ award of two medals for gallantry. While they did so, Tom was already planning to throw them in the cut. Tommy was not the same man he came as. They were given beer upon arrival at Birmingham. Tommy did not have a beer, the cold taste on his mouth made it hurt. Seeing Arthur moderately happy to be home was enough for him. 

Smelling the sickening scent of Birmingham felt familiar, but so distant, like a memory from so long ago. Polly and Ada waited for them at the station. Arthur ran into Ada’s arms. John into Polly’s. Human contact only reminded Tommy of the horrors. The claustrophobia. The attacks. The sweat and heat and humidity. He couldn’t bear to touch anyone anymore, ever again. Not even Lizzie. It brought back the nightmares, the flashbacks. Every moment he thought about it, he could feel the pain in his head and in his torso. Every time he looked at the wives and mothers and daughters he saw Greta’s face. Whether she was right in front of him or miles away, he could see her. He didn’t even need the bottle of opium to summon his girl anymore. 

The first night was the hardest. No smoke to help him through it. He was drunk from the whiskey they had earlier, for it was a long time since he last had it. He shut his eyes. He saw it. Again. And again. The moment his eyes fixed with his.

While Tommy’s eyes were shut, he dreamt of the shovels. Sometimes the sunlight beat the shovels he heard against his bedroom wall. But most of the time, the shovels beat the sunlight, and he would live the nightmare again. Watery Lane brought back memories of home, but the claustrophobic, small rooms of the back to back houses only reminded him more of France. He didn’t speak. He didn’t speak for a week. To no one. 

The first time in three years they had been to the Garrison pub. The France comrades walked through the double doors, and strode up to the bar. “What you havin’ boys?” asked Harry from behind the bar. Tommy looked at Arthur. It was always Tom that asked for the whiskeys, but he hadn’t spoken for days. Not now. He would. Now now. 

“Six whiskeys, ‘arry,” replied Arthur, loyal to his broken brother. 

“On the ‘ouse,” Harry exclaimed, presenting a bottle of whiskey and six glasses. Nevertheless, Tommy placed the money on the bar anyway. As he always had.

Polly Gray was next to enter the pub, walking straight next to Tom. Tommy paid no attention to her, as if she weren’t there. “Thomas. It’s time to stop. We need you back. Arthur can’t do it anymore. We agreed you’d take over. I won’t talk to a man who won’t talk to me back,” she explained. “We need you back Tom, Small Heath needs you back.”

“I am back, Pol,” said Tommy. Still they made no eye contact as if they were having different conversations. She looked at him. He looked at her. “I’m back.” He repeated it louder so everyone heard. Without making eye contact with anyone else, he chugged his whiskey sour and strode with meaning out of the pub. 

John followed him, “Welcome back, Tom. First order of business?”

“Monaghan Boy. He’s going to win the races.”

The night he killed the horse he won off the Lee boys, the first time he spent time alone with Grace Burghes: the new Irish barmaid in the Garrison. Heart broken. He was scared. His head still full of the mud of the tunnels. In Charlie Strong’s yard there were, illegally: 25 Lewis machine guns, 10,000 rounds of ammunition, 50 semi-automatic rifles, 200 pistols with shells. All bound for Libya. 

Greta kept appearing. In the Garrison, on the streets, never anywhere he could talk to her, but enough for him to catch a glimpse. Tommy didn’t take opium much anymore, but instead used a smoke Danny called his ‘Sweetheart’. It helped Tommy get to sleep. He dreamt every night about France: the claustrophobic tunnels, endless mud and digging and fighting and singing ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’. 

They were thrown back into society. No assistance. No mental help. No financial help. Thrown back in regardless of their mental state. Thomas has a lot to think about, before he could love again, but, unfortunately, the informant sent there to betray him caught his eye. The night he shot the horse, he was shattered like a piece of glass thrown across ‘no-man’s-land’. All because he bought the horse under bad will. The Lee boys placed a curse on an innocent horse. To put him out of his misery, Tommy had to. 

“Get up, sing to me, Grace,” ordered Thomas. 

“Happy or sad, Thomas,” asked Grace, a smirk across her face. Tommy’s expression remained the shell-shocked nervous wreck he had been since France. No one even knew. 

“...Sad.”

“I warn you, I’ll break your heart.” She giggles. Tom looked her in the eye, as if to ask, beg of her to stop. To help. 

“Already broken.”

As she sang, his mind returned to the barbaric and traumatic experience he volunteered for. Tommy never left the tunnel. In his head. Trapped, he felt, always. Sweaty from the humidity. Weak from the lack of sunlight. No cigarettes, whiskey, hardly a glass of water. As Grace sang, Tommy could feel the dryness in his mouth, taking him back to the last moment of peace, before the shovels broke through. Tommy was in a tunnel now. He trusted his comrades, and no one else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timings of this is utter shit, but this is what i wrote and I just wanted to see basically how my writing has improved since then. Some of the plotlines are used from the show, but are sort of skipped over completely and just.... yeah just expect some things to have happened, if that makes sense.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wtf is wrong with younger me. I'll have a chapter that's like ten pages long and then have one that's only a few lines. Still, wanna post the actual thing, so this is a short chapter

Family council. Called by Tommy. The guns. Arthur, Polly, John, and him. 

Tommy’s men were supposed to steal some motorcycles from the BSA factory, but instead stole a large crate of guns, ammunition, all controlled by King George and Winston Churchill, Secretary of State. 

“So Campbell is here for the guns?” asked John. 

“Yes, John,” replied Tom. “He won’t leave until he has ‘em."

“Well we ain’t giving them,” insisted Arthur. A lot of money could be made by selling the guns. 

“I know what you think, Arthur,” explained Polly. “But we sell the guns to anyone with use to them, we’ll all hang. Do you understand. IRA, communists, anyone that wants them, the government is against. ”

“What’s the plan, then Tom?” Arthur asked. Thomas didn’t answer. 

“Tom, what are we going to do with the fuckin’ guns?” No reply from Thomas. Instead, Tom looked at Polly. 

Polly heard Arthur’s cry for an answer and Tommy’s cry for help in explaining this to his simpleton brother: “Tommy will talk to Inspector Campbell, and negotiate a deal so we benefit from the replacement of the guns.” John and Arthur looked over at Tom, who’s arms held themselves against the fire mantelpiece, head hanging down. 

“What’s wrong with ‘im lately?” Arthur asked. Tommy lifted his head up and turned around to see all eyes on him. The blue irises were sunken into his face, for his lack of sleep meant he was deprived of the necessary energy for his body. He didn’t eat much at all anymore. A snack here and there, enough to survive. There was silence for about a minute as everyone’s eyes darted up and down Tom’s hunched body. 

John interrupted the silence: “Whatever it is, he better snap out of it. We’ve got work to do.” Thomas left the room, opening the double doors to the betting shop, striding into his office. 

“Don’t give him such a hard time, boys. You know how he struggles.” Polly meant it. You knew when Polly meant something because the apples in her cheeks turned a bloody red. 

That was the day. Never again did he bring up the topic of France, the War. Never again did he so much as mention the day the shovels broke through. No one did anymore. Polly and Ada spoke to Thomas all the time when they returned to England. “We were so worried” “We thought you might die”, you know the story. Thomas never replied, so eventually they stopped asking.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, another short chapter.

“You should speak to Arthur, Tom. He’s got the Flanders Blues again,” John pleaded. Third time this week. He knew where Arthur would be, the same place as always, the church.

As the double doors opened to the Catholic church, Thomas walked over to the pue behind Arthur, where he began to talk. “You need to stop this now, Arthur. Third time this week. We’re sick of it, brother. We’re home. Deal with it. God knows everyone else did,” Tommy began. 

“I’m not you Tom. I can’t struggle for a week then get over it in a fortnight. I’m not you,” Arthur replied. «Look at Barney. He struggled. He struggled in France. The shells. Bombs. The vast number of men he sniped in the space of five seconds. Now look where he is. A mental hospital for the criminally insane, stuck in a straitjacket. I don’t want to end up like that, Tom. » Tommy grabbed Arthur by the scruff of his lapel, and looked deep into his eyes. 

« Arthur, we’re home. Find a way to deal with it. » He let go of Arthur and strides out the church, to Charlie’s Yard, where the horses are. 

« Where you going, Tom? » asked Charlie. 

« I don’t know, Charlie, somewhere different, » he replied, ambiguously. And with that, rose off on the beautiful black horse which shone in the sunlight, but cried at the loud bangs of Birmingham. Winnehing, crying, rearing. Thomas climbed off the horse, stroking her nose with his hands. « It’s okay, boy. It’s just noise. It’s just noise. » 

After calming him down, he got back on and continued to walk down Garrison Lane and Watery Lane. The Shelby family held power in Small Heath. Everyone knew what they did to people who doubted them. As he strode through the streets, people cleared the way for him, pulling their children out of the way, too. 

« Sorry Mr Shelby » « Good day, Mr Shelby. »


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that, a slightly longer chapter. Hope you enjoy!

An office girl sat outside Tommy’s office, as she always did. She could see from the corner of her eye the betting shop, where a man was getting angry that he lost his money. All of a sudden, he lunged himself at Scudboat, in an attack attempt. With this, a stray metal box of betting receipts fell hard against the metal floor. The noise was loud, echoed across the shop and into the offices. The man was taken out, shot against a post by Arthur’s shooting pistol. The office girl went about her business, taking a glance at Thomas’ office as she returned to her work. She was shocked to see him standing behind his desk, hands leaning on the table, frozen in fear. Shaking ferociously. Pale as the dead men in France. Instinctively, she opened the door to the office, closing it behind her. « Mr Shelby, are you okay, sir? » she asked. No reply. Tommy’s eyes remained fixed downwards against his desk. A tear dropped from his eye onto the paperwork on his desk, the ink words seeping into each other. 

« Mr Shelby, I’m going to come closer. Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything. » She moves towards him slowly and cautiously, never making a sudden movement. 

Still he didn’t move, apart from the shaking taking over his body. 

« Thomas, I think you need to have a sit down, some food, cigarettes, and a nap. What food do you want me to make and I’ll do it. »

Tommy shook his head as he sat down and looked at his colleague: « No. I can’t. » Tommy had lost plenty of weight, for he did not eat until it was necessary. «I’m busy. Not enough time. There’s just not enough time.» His mouth was dry and his eyes were empty. 

«At least get some sleep. Do it here, I’ll shut the blinds, no one will know. I won’t leave your side. »

And with that, Tommy slept. He slept for a mere 20 minutes, when he murmured slurred words and sweated and shook. He talked about Greta and France, and the shovels, all spoken quietly under his breath, loud enough for her to hear. It was sleep nonetheless. 

When Karl was born, Thomas always avoided him. Tommy also avoided John's children. You see, Mr Shelby knew he was cursed. His mother and his grandfather killed themselves. It’s in his blood to do so. But he meant so much to so many people, and after laughing at Arthur after he tried to hang himself, Tommy couldn’t. He had too many people relying on him. If another family member died, he might just follow in his mother’s footsteps. The thing is, Thomas would do anything for his family. He would die for them in an instant, without question. He did this knowing full well that they wouldn’t do the same for him. But he did it anyway. 

Two of the Shelby brothers, John and Tommy, are sat in the small room situated in the Garrison pub. “Tom, it’s been ‘ard since Martha died,” John began. “I wouldn’t ask you this unless is were necessary. You know I wouldn’t. God knows I wouldn’t. I’m goin’ mad in that house. Everyone knows I am. I need someone, Tom. I need a woman to ‘elp me out. The kids need a mum.” 

“I’m aware of this. As you know we’ve been at war with the Lee family for God knows how long now. There’s a woman, Esme, who needs an ’usband like you need a wife,” Tommy replied. There is a moment's silence. As Thomas got up to leave, he points to John and says “Wedding Thursday.” 

Tommy walked up to the bar and nodded to Grace. “How are you, Thomas?” Everyone knew not to ask Tom that, but she knew him. The real him. 

“Well, Grace, Campbell is after the guns, and there is word they know where they are.” Grace broke eye contact. 

“And where are they?” she asked. 

“When I shot Danny Wizbang with sheep brains to please the Italian fuckers, we sent him off to London to gather information on us. Everyone thought he was dead, so we dug a grave for him. In that grave is the guns.” Tommy regretted that as soon as the words tumbled out of his mouth. There had been rumours of a black cat, a traitor, but Thomas felt himself single-handedly falling in love with Grace. They didn’t speak. Grace looked at Tom, smiling with one side of her face. Tommy’s blue eyes glistened and shone brightly off her blonde hair. 

“I’ve been making gin,” Thomas began. “Come to Charlie’s yard at 9, maybe you could try some, maybe we could dance.”

“I’d love that,” Grace replied, still smiling brightly at her solemate. “I’ll see you there, Thomas.”Tommy nodded to satisfy her, before gently grabbing the flatcap from the bar, and walking home, where he washed his face and changed his suit.


	10. Chapter Ten

Shirt, tie, waistcoat, holster, gun, trousers, shoes, pocket-watch, suit jacket, coat, flatcap. He sighed as he looked intently at his pocket-watch: 8:50. Walking down his stairs, striding more, he climbed onto his horse and rode the white beauty up to Charlie’s yard, where he tied her with Curly. 

“Beauty, she is, isn’t she Tommy?” Curly explained.

“Absolute,” Thomas replied. 

As instructed by Tommy, Charlie had set up a dining table and chairs in the empty warehouse, where the music player sat on a small box, playing romantic music quietly. And, just as he sat down, Grace, smiling as usual, sat down opposite him. There were plates and cutlery, as well as two glasses and a bottle of gin. 

“Hello, Thomas,” she said through her teeth which shone bright through her open lips. 

“Hello, Grace,” Tommy replied, bringing his eyes to meet hers. They leant in to each other, heads tilted, and there, their lips connected and they kissed like they had been together for years. And just as they did, Curly walked in with a tray of food in his hands. Placing it on the table, Tommy plated a generous serving for Grace, then sat back on his chair and lit a cigarette. 

“Are you not eating, Thomas?” she asked, digging into her food.

“I don’t eat,” he replied, breaking his eye contact with her. 

“What do you mean?” Tommy scoffed at this absurd question.

“Waste of time.” There was silence as they stared at each other for a couple of minutes. 

“Anyway, Grace. Gin?” he exclaimed, opening the bottle labelled ‘GIN, for the eradication of seemingly incurable sadness’. 

“I like the name,” Grace giggled. 

“Well, it’s a promise of false hope.”

“It doesn’t work, then?”

“It works, just not on men like me.”

Grace tasted the sweet glass of gin after Tommy poured it. “It’s lovely,” she began. “Are you going to sell this? You do know the market is hard. People are making it in their bath these days.”

“I know, Grace, but once the distillery is complete, I can legally ship it overseas, which I plan to do. By the end of the year, I hope to have business with America and Russia.”

“France would be much easier, doesn’t take days on a boat to get there, to test the waters and market.”

“I’ve been to France; left France in a cattle truck, Grace. I’m not going back.”

There was silence again as they yet again stared into each other’s eyes. Tommy even cracked a smile as they looked at each other. When he did so, Grace broke eye contact and put her glass roughly on the table.

“Tommy, I think I need to tell you something,” she began. Tommy didn’t say anything, which was usually an invitation to continue. “I wasn’t going to, legally I cannot, but I can’t resist.”

“Are you okay, Grace?” he asked. 

“No, Thomas, I’m not okay. You see, there have been rumours, as you have heard, of betrayal, Campbell sending an informant to find the guns.” Tommy was smart, and he knew what she was saying, but could not believe it. He was rarely wrong, but he really hoped he was. “It’s me, Thomas. I betrayed you.” Tommy’s mouth dropped, his hands holding themselves tightly on the table, he froze. “Thomas, I started the mission for revenge, hoping it was the IRA who had the guns, but when we started talking I knew you were different, I hope we can still-”

“Get out.” 

“Thomas, please.”

“Grace, please leave before I do something I’ll regret.”

Without much asking, she did as she was told. Grace was the first woman Tommy had loved since Greta, the first woman since Greta he would ever think of starting life with, marrying, having a family. She betrayed him. Heartbroken, he remembered back to the conversation he had just that day with Grace. He told her where the guns were. He told her. As it always had been for Tommy, love was his greatest weakness. Only one thing can blind a man as smart as him; love.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow bitches another short chapter

“You told her where the guns are!” Arthur shouted at Tommy, as he held his hands on top of the mantelpiece and his head hung down. “You fucking idiot. That was the biggest business since Monahan Boy. Some bloody luck we got with that. We had a chance, Thomas. We had a chance to become something. You realise you blew that, right Tom?” Tommy said nothing. “Don’t try to pin this on me. I warned you about her, Tom. I knew there was something about her. She came from Galway, supposing that really is where she is from, as soon as the guns were reported missing. I told you, Tom.”

“I know, Arthur. I know I made a mistake. I apologise for that, but I think instead of worrying about that, we should be reminding ourselves now that the Changretas know Danny is not dead. Now, not only will they be after him, but us as well.”

“I’m sure they’ll be sending a bullet in first light with your name on it,” John explained. 

“Already here,” Tommy explained as he held up a bullet with Tommy inscribed on it. 

“Fuck,” Polly worried. “We’ll need to arrange a meeting with them to discuss options.”

Tommy found Lizzie that night. He needed something to comfort him. Something to remind him he was human, after what Arthur had said to him. Her soft body against his broken skin was comforting to him, calmed him down, slowed down the gunshots in his head. 

“Lizzie, there’s a business party I have been invited to tomorrow night with Alfie Solomons. I had invited Grace, but she is now unavailable,” Tommy suggested.

“Are you asking me on a date, Thomas?” she asked, shocked.

“It seems so, doesn’t it.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

“Alfie!” Tommy shouted from across a few metres of dancers. He ushered Lizzie over to Mr Solomons, and continued: “This is Lizzie. Lizzie, this is Alfie Solomons. Lizzie is my…” Tommy looked over at Lizzie, and in the seconds of eye contact their life they would have together flashed before them, “my girlfriend.” 

“Never thought of you with a girl by your side, Tommy,” Alfie explained, shaking Thomas’ hand. After he had left, Tommy looked at Lizzie, who’s expression was worried about something Tommy could not figure out quite what. 

“What’s wrong, Lizzie?” Thomas asked, worried about her.

“Tommy, I’m pregnant,” she replied.

“Wh- is?”

“Yes, Tom, it is of course, yours. You pay me the most.”

“Wh-w- when did, what?” 

“Last month, it must have been.”

“We’re going to have a baby?” he asked.

“Yes, we’re going to have a baby.”

“When do you want to get married?”

“Tommy Shelby, the romantic,” she laughed. 

“I’m serious, my baby will not be a bastard… Last night, I was heartbroken, and in love still. Since France, when I’ve been seeing you, you’ve made my day worth living. I love you, Lizzie. I always have.” 

“I love you, Tom, and I know I’ll never be Greta, or Grace. I’ll never be like them. Tommy, but I can be what you need.” Tommy smiles, and she did too.

“Shall we go eat,” Tommy asked. Lizzie nodded as they started walking to the dining hall. A sudden lapse of slow motion occurred when a man dressed all in black pushed his way through the dancing crowds who were now beginning to usher themselves to the food hall. He held a gun in his hands, pointing directly at Thomas and Lizzie. Instinctively, Tom tried to get in front of her, to take it for her, as he had with Barney in France. 

Bang. Bang. Two bullets fired from the gun in the man’s hands. But Tommy could only feel one shot through his upper right chest. The pain was turned into confusion as to where the other bullet was. As he looked towards Lizzie, she looked at him also. and began to fall. “Fuck,” Tommy whispered as he lowered her to the ground. He had so much experience saving men and horses from bullets, but had never been in the position to save a woman from death before.   
“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.” Tommy explained, a tear in his eye. 

“I’m going to die, Tommy,” Lizzie cried. “I love you, Tom.”

They had been holding hands, but her hand loosened. People around gathered, as Tommy kissed Lizzie’s head. He held her hand tight, and with his other hand, checked her pulse on her wrist. “Mr Shelby, we’ve called an ambulance. They are on their way now,” a voice explained. 

“No.” He paused for a moment as he held her tight. “She’s gone.” 

“Tommy.” Thomas heard Alfie’s voice through the crowds of people shouting his name. “Tom, you do pick your times, eh? Thought I was the only one who wanted you dead.” There was a moments’ silence as Thomas cradled Lizzie’s head and men behind them were looking for the man who killed his fiancé, but he was gone; he got away, like a worm feasting at the most precious parts of your head, then scurrying away as though nothing ever happened. Tommy knew who it was. The Changreta’s knew about the guns, that Danny was alive. 

“Mr Shelby, you’re bleeding,” another voice called. “Heavily. We should get some help.”

“No,” Tommy replied. “I’m okay.” As he tried to get up, lifting Lizzie in his arms as he did so, but in doing this, he fell to the floor, with her falling on top of him. He hugged her like he just got back from France. The people around him dragged him away from her, and as his eyes blurred with tears, he let them. The pain was too great, the pain of the bullet, the pain in the head. 

They pulled him away from his fiance, and to a place where they pulled the bullet from his chest. He did not groan, or shout, or cry, but remained silent, eyes wide as he took in the events that just happened. His fiance was shot because of his own wrongdoings. His baby inside her. A little him. Gone. Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thing is, I actually love Lizzie so much and prefer her to Grace. But back when I wrote this, I definitely didn't so that's sad.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

“Thomas?” asked Polly. Tommy sat in his desk, hands firmly on the rim of the oak wood, his head bowed. Aunt Polly was sitting in front, staring at him deeply and worriedly. 

After they pulled the bullet from him, they put him in a hospital, from which he discharged himself almost as quickly as he entered. He took fifty in France, one couldn’t hurt anymore. 

“Tom?” asked John. He was there too. “Talk to us, and we can help.” 

Arthur continued from him: “Tom, we’re sorry this happened. I had no idea you felt that way about her.” 

« She was pregnant, » Tommy replied without emotion. « My baby was inside her. » There was silence. No one said anything. Words can’t explain the pain. 

John explained, “Tom. We think you need peace. Some time away. God knows you’ve had your fit of war.” 

“No, John,” Thomas finally replied. “The Changretta’s. They’ll come. I can’t suddenly stop. That’s when we’re weakest and that’s when they’ll take us all.” 

No one spoke a word, but the silence said it all. Polly was usually very talented in convincing Tommy into doing the right thing, but he wasn’t in his right mind, couldn’t bear the truth, so she didn’t even try. Looking at Tom, she addressed the other two brothers: “Come on, boys, perhaps Thomas is right. And if he’s wrong, we’ll all be dead before the year is out.” And with that, they left Tommy to himself, where he did not move for hours. 

Finally, he got up from his chair, retrieved his shiny black horse, and rode across the back to back houses to the Lee family territory, where John’s wedding was taking place. As the Shelby brothers, along with the other peaky boys, walked past wagons, horses, brothers, sisters, and kin. “I hope she’s under 50,” John laughed, placing a flower in his breast pocket. 

The wedding went well, Esme Lee becoming Esme Shelby, the party was situated in the Garrison pub, where bands played and people danced. Where Thomas remained in his seat, watching the world go by. 

Stood at the Garrison bar the next morning, Thomas heard the double doors open and the tapping of heels coming up to him. My God, Tommy was not ready to deal with Polly right now. Fortunately, it was not Polly, but unfortunately, it was someone far more surprising. 

“I’m sorry, Thomas,” Grace began. “I came here for revenge on the Irish Republican Army for killing my father. Campbell knew you had the guns, so ordered me to bring you down. By order of the law, Thomas. That means I have to. But I resigned my position. I don’t have to anymore. We can be together. I love you, Thomas. I do, I love you.”

“I love you, Grace,” Tommy began, “But I cannot stop thinking of your trust. Can I trust you, Grace. I gave you everything I had and you betrayed me like a black cat. I love you Grace, but I cannot trust you until I know you really love me back.” 

Thomas and Grace slept together that same night, the beauty of their lips and hands touching each other'. And in Aunt Polly’s words: ‘You can never tell with men; they go for whoever their dicks point at and there’s no stopping them’. Perhaps this is what happened. Perhaps Tommy forgot what had happened, or perhaps he blocked that part of his mind away with France, Greta, and Lizzie.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

“Tommy, I know it’s been difficult, but you’re taking over this family and we’re feeling trapped, us women. We managed while you boys were at war, why don’t you think we can manage now, eh?” Ada asked. As she said this, Thomas reached into his blazer pocket and retrieved a metal cylinder, short and stubby, but larger than some of the ones had seen before. The bullet, his first ever bulet; the first one he took, which he carried around with him to remind himslef of who he is, and how far they have come. 

“Ada, have you seen this before? Have you Esme? Polly?” This was the most words Thomas had spoken in weeks, something unusual for him to speak directly to people. He held it up so they could clearly see, but didn’t look at it himself. He couldn’t bare to. The words Ada spoke broke him, reminded him of the horrors he faced. “This is one of the bullets from when we were in France, fighting for the King. In France, where we learnt about life, and death, and what the world is really like. You weren’t down there, you wouldn’t know. This bullet didn’t come on it’s own. It came with a lifetime of regret and utter emptiness. I learnt that life is fucked up, that I don’t care if I live or die, because my life is a waste. I’m the man who killed innocent men, men who were just fighting for their own country. But I do care about the lives of my family, which is why I take charge. If you don’t understand that then you can leave. Next time you’re thinking of fucking inequality, think of that fucking bullet.”

“That’s the bullet that won you a medal, Thomas,” Esme began, “A fucking medal. You consider yourself a gangster murderer with a broken heart but you had a medal and you threw it in the cut. You don’t care about yourself which means you most certainly don’t care about us.”

Tommy continued, “Esme. You don’t understand the value I take of family. I’ve lost family, I know what it’s like. Not only do I know what it’s like to lose people, but see people die before me eyes: innocent people fighting for their fuckin country. I’ve killed inoccent men, Esme, do you fucking understand that? Have you seen Barney Thomason? No, he’s locked up in a fucking straitjacket in a padded room in an asylum for the criminally insane because he shot men who didn’t deserve to die, and it took its toll on him like it’s taking his toll on me...” What was a strong statement faded out as Tommy realised what he said. He never let anyone in, especially when it came to the war. He was a closed book, and the book wasn’t opened, until now. The girls only knew who Barney Thomason was from Arthur and John’s letters, and their talks since France. No one had ever heard Thomas talk about the war since they got back, he never talked about it. To anyone. Especially not about Barney; he only reminded Thomas of where he was headed. Except he thought about him every second.

And with that, the room fell silent. 

“Just… think of the bullet.” And with that, Tommy left the room with no further comments. 

“Esme, you have to be careful. Tommy threw the medals in the cut for a reason,” Aunt Polly explained.   
“If we never get him to open up about the War, he could end up six feet under,” Esme disagreed. “John is his brother; I don’t want to see him die. It looks as though this is the only way. If he doesn’t open up, he may just kill himself. You saw how his mother, and grandfather died. I bet he doesn’t even know they killed themselves.”  
Ada interrupted, “Don’t speak about my family like that. Thomas is having it rough, but we shouldn’t argue with him, or fight with him; it only makes it worse for him. We have to help him, call a doctor.”

“He doesn’t like to think about the war. You know that. Have you ever as much as heard him talk about what happened out there? No. God knows what he’s going to do now.” She panicked, worried about what he might do. He could do anything without question. Anything.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

But Thomas did not do Anything. He strode through the Garrison pub, and walked to the bar, where Grace was serving drinks. Grace tried to make eye contact with him, but the sky blue eyes of Thomas Shelby remained hidden under his flatcap, looking down at the wooden bar. 

“Should I ask if you’re okay like a good barmaid?” Grace asked. 

“No,” Tommy whispered, loud enough so she could hear, but no one else could.

“Tell me your troubles, Thomas,” she pried. 

“It would take a year to, Grace,” Tommy replied, looking up at her with watery eyes. 

“There’s something in your eye, Thomas,” she explained, a broad smile on her face. “It almost looks like a tear. Is Thomas Shelby shedding a tear?” she joked. Tom leaned in for a kiss, stroking her soft pale skin as he did so. “My shift is just about to finish?” Tommy nodded, and they followed back to his home on Watery Lane, where they slept together. In that moment of love, Tommy forgot it all, everything. And almost immediately after, as they snuggled on the bed, he stared deeply at the wall in front. 

The shovels scraped against the wall like they always had done before. And with that, it all came back, the pain, the memories, the nightmares, the killings. Thomas sat up sharply, letting go of Grace’s hand, burying his fingers into his eyes as he always had done trying to hide the emptiness of them. 

“Are you okay, Thomas?” Grace asked  
.  
“No,” Tommy replied. “I’m not, Grace.”

“What’s wrong, Tom?” 

“The shovels stopped when we did it last time. I thought they were gone for good. They’ve come back.”

“What shovels, Thomas?”

“The shovels against the wall.”

“Tommy, you’re making no sense. Please, explain it to me.”

“In France, when we were tunnelling, there was a time. We were out of bullets, out of food, cut off from the retreat, nowhere to turn.” He paused for a moment, deciding whether to trust her. He had decided. “We listened day and night to the shovels of the Prussian cavalry, waiting for them to come. To finish us off. As we listened to the shovels, at that moment, I felt more dead than alive. When they finally came…” Thomas had to stop himself before he began to cry.

“It’s okay, Thomas. Polly told me what happened. You don’t have to..."

“Since that day, I’ve heard the shovels, day and night, whether in the for-front or the background of my mind. They stopped the night we fucked. Didn’t come back, not until now. I thought they were gone. They’re back, Grace.”  
“It’s okay, Thomas,” she replied, shocked he could trust her again, even after what she did to him. She pulled him into a hug, and he took it. They held tight for a while, and after, when she had drifted off to sleep, he lowered her onto the bed, got dressed into his suit, despite it being late in the night, and left the house, and Watery Lane.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

“Tommy, I knew you wouldn’t yourself, so I called a doctor on your behalf. He said there are ways to make it stop,” Ada began. 

Tommy tried to say nothing, but couldn’t stop the flow of words sprawling out of his mouth: “Did Grace tell you?” 

“Yes, Grace told me. And the office worker told me about your panic attack in the office, and Finn said he walked in your room the other night, and you were shouting and shaking in your dream. He said you kept asking for Greta, and telling the boys about the shovels. I told this to the doctor, he’ll be happy to see you, Thomas.”

“I’m not going, Ada. I’m not going.”

“Tommy, you won’t end up like Barney. I swear. He’s a convicted criminal. You’re -” She was interrupted.

“I’m what. Just a gangster. Just a criminal. Just a murderer. I’m not going, Ada. I’m not ending up where he is.” 

“Then at least talk to us. Open up. We’re worried about you, Tommy. Stop with all the war stuff, see the doctor, or talk to us. Talk to me, or Polly, or Grace, or even John or Arthur.”

Ada was half expecting an answer, as half as she knew it wouldn’t come. Thomas got up and left, picking up his flat cap from the table in front of him as he did so. 

A night in London, Camden Town. Alfie Solomons and Thomas Shelby were becoming business partners; the Romani gypsy razor gang with hardly a dime was becoming part of a legitimate business. 

As Thomas walked in the midnight moonlight of London’s streets, ready to get into his car. As he turned onto the road of his motorcar, someone appeared to already be in it, so Tommy was ready to attack, his hand under his armpit ready to retrieve his gun. Just as he did so, the man in the car opened the door and held out a gun to Thomas’ head. He held his hands up in surrender, dropping his own gun on the ground. As he backed up into the dark street, more men joined him, murmuring Italian swears and curses, probably. Thomas knew instantly, the Changretta’s. They had left Shelby's enough time for them to almost forget. That’s when they knew it would hurt most.

They attacked him, punching, kicking him until he fell to the floor. Originally, Tommy was able to defend himself, but the men attacking him raised to six or seven, and Tom was outnumbered. Bones crunched in his face and nose and body. Once they were done, blood streaming all over, his body entirely numb to the pain, they held him up by under his armpits, holding his head up by gripping his bloody hair. 

Luca Changreta, the son of Vincente, who killed Lizzie, was now standing in front of him. “Know this, Thomas Shelby. We will come for you. We will not kill you today, purely for the reason that my mother says it will hurt you most if we kill you last, after every member of your family is dead,” he began, a broad smile across his face. “So this is a warning. We are coming for you, and all of your family.” They dropped him to the floor, before pinning him against the wall by his head, their hands pressed firmly against his ear and the side of his skull. They pushed hard against the stone wall, Thomas screaming desperately in agony, begging for someone to come and save him. But no one came. 

As the last push of the head gave way, a ginormous crack let him drop to the floor. His skull broke into God knows how many pieces. All the men fled the scene, leaving Thomas on the floor, gripping onto his life. He groaned as he dragged his way back to his motorcar, and somehow, managed to drive home to Small Heath. It was a struggle, and numerous times, during periods of unconsciousness, he almost crashed. 

Once back home, he struggled to stumble, hunched into the Garrison, holding onto walls and railings for help. In his eyes, the ground and the ceiling and the people and furniture was moving around him, his vision temperamental, fading in and out, but when it was better than horrific, Tom could just make out the figures of people around him. He could feel all the eyes on him. Usually, he strode into the Garrison with stares and strong gait, so for the commoners if Small Heath to see this; it was not normal. He could tell that Grace was serving; she saw his struggle, inability to breathe and hardly walk, and the blood down his face, through his hair, and down his clothes, the once white shirt now entirely stained red, and a blood trail following his footsteps. As he walked in, he turned away from Grace to be sick onto the ground, wrenching up blood. 

“Oh, my goodness, Tommy!” Grace exclaimed, running over to support him. “What on earth happened?”

Tommy struggled to produce words. “Call Moss. Tell Polly they’ve come, and they know where we are. They’re coming for all of us. Do you have any cocaine?”

“No, I don’t Tommy, sorry. I’ll call for an ambulance.”

“No, I can’t go to a hospital, then Luca could send a man any time. We have to stay here, in Small Heath.”

« Who’s after you? I don’t understand. »

« Just… tell Pol. » He left the Garrison, and struggled to the offices, where he practically crawled his way to his desk. Tommy picked up the telephone and dialled for Birmingham, then for Arthur. 

« Arthur? » Tommy asked. 

« Speaking. Tommy? » Arthur replied. 

« Arthur, the Changreta’s. They’ve come. They’re coming for us. » 

« Are you okay Tom? »

« Did they come for you? Are you okay? »

« I’m okay, Tom. Are you? You sound weird. »

« I’m fine, Arthur. Family meeting, ten minutes, okay? »

« Okay. » Thomas hung up the phone, and continued to call every member of his family, checking they were okay, and informing them of the meeting in due course. Tommy had lost consciousness after his last call, and when he opened his eyes, members of his family were sat and stood in front of him. 

« My God, Tom, are you okay? » Ada asked as Tommy lifted his head up to show the masses of blood across his face and down his clothes, the chunks of vomit down his chin and chest. « What happened? » she continues. 

« How long have you been here? » Tommy asked, confused.

« We’ve been here about five minutes, » Arthur replied. 

« Grace told me there was an emergency, that you looked like a state, I came straight up. I’ve been here a half hour,” replied Polly. 

« Fuck, » Tommy whispered. « Everyone is here and everyone is alive. That’s the important thing. » 

« What’s going on Tom? » asked John. 

« The Changretas. They’ve come. They won’t leave until we’re all dead. » 

Gone. Tommy was out again. 

« What are we going to do, Pol? » asked Ada. «He has to go to a hospital. » 

« Grace said he won’t go. She tried to call an ambulance but he said they would be able to come and kill him easily in a hospital. »

« He’ll die here if we’re not careful. » 

« He’s right, I don’t think he should go to the hospital,” Arthur explained. “Anyone pays a nurse enough and they can get in.”

Tommy awoke again. “Sorry. I just…”

“It’s okay, Tom. We’ll get you some cocaine and some sleep. We’ll clean you up and you’ll be fine,” Polly explained. 

“I’m meant to be meeting with Alfie Solomons in an hour. I need to get to London.”

“We’ll call him, Tom. You’re not going to London.”

“Fine, but just… be careful. If you could- I- I need to make some calls.” 

His family left, all keeping their eyes on him as they did. And Tommy made out his calls to Alfie, explaining he wouldn’t be able to go to London for the foreseeable future, and if he wished to come to Birmingham, he would be welcomed. In between calls, he was sick down next to him, even when there was nothing left to bring up. 

John and Arthur helped him later that day to get him home, to his bed, where Ada did not leave his side. However, Tommy did not sleep. 

“Did you get cocaine, Ada? » Thomas asked, gasping for air. 

« Yes, Tom, » Ada replied, retrieving a blue canister from her pocket and passing it to Tommy. He snorted it and reached for a cigarette. Lighting it, Tommy continued. 

« Ada, can you-. » He pointed towards his opium pipe. He’s never told anyone about it, but he needed sleep. He needed to think of something other than the agonising pain. Reluctantly, Ada did as he asked, and he talked her through how to use it, after his own attempts failed. 

Finally, Tommy fell asleep, but not without a dream. He slept for a total of five minutes, the pain burrowing through his head and body. The nightmare relived. The moment the Prussians broke through. The pain felt the same, the same as that night, which made this nightmare seem even more real. He woke up gasping and sat up. Ada wasn’t there anymore. In some ways, Tommy was glad she wasn’t. As a tickle in his throat grew to a cough, a wheeze came out, blood spitting on his sheets, which were already stained with the blood from his head and body.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Sat in his office, after a change of clothes and a face wash, mind he was still bleeding, he was cleaner than he was. He had a bucket next to him, for he threw up seemingly every minute, a mixture of blood, cocaine and whiskey. At that moment, Tommy used the bucket yet again, wrenching up nothing. There was nothing left in him. So what he threw up was something inside him, perhaps pieces of his stomach or lungs or liver; Tommy didn’t know which. 

Polly walked in, Tommy could tell by the sound of heels and the skirt suit, but his vision was a blur. Tommy was ready for whatever Pol wanted him to do, but then he saw someone walk in behind her. This was not a familiar blur, not one he had seen at the family meeting. Not that he could move or do anything about it. 

Polly cleared things up, « I know you won’t go to a hospital, so I called a doctor to come in and see you, just so we know if we can do anything. »  
« I’m Dr. Smith. I know you wish not to go to a hospital, so Mrs Gray has asked me to, well, paid me a lot to come and see what’s wrong. »

He did the regular checks, and asked about his eyesight, to which Tommy explained it was not optimal at all. He clicked his nose back into place, sewed up the stitches he needed in his torso, then bandaged them. 

“How’s the pain, Mr Shelby?” Dr Smith asked.   
“Unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. All over, like someone’s shot me in the ‘ead, then kept going up and down me body. It hurts to speak and breathe and move and think, » Tommy explained. 

Then the moment both Polly and Tommy were dreading. Dr Smith wished to check his head. The crack in his skull was external, but the doctor also confirmed internal too. Polly and Tommy caught worried eye contact as the doctor explained. « You’re in a bad way, Mr. Shelby. A very bad way. I am aware you wish not to go to hospital, but I can confirm without even properly checking that you have Hemorrhage, Concussion, internal bleeding, skull fracture, many broken bones, and most likely brain damage. If you don’t get operated on, you will almost certainly die. » You could swear Tom almost gave a half smile to this, the thought of the pain stopping forever. The eye contact he made with Polly instantly wiped the smirk from his face. 

« Is there anything we can do? »   
« There’s nothing Mr Shelby can do other than nothing. Refrain from visual strain, such as documents, gunfire, sudden movement. I’d recommend he remain still as much as possible, not drink, stop with the cigarettes, and I know you use an opium pipe. That needs to stop » Polly looked at Tommy, shocked. It appears Ada didn’t tell Polly about that. « Keep away from stressful activities, don’t horse ride, and stay generally safe. My only true advice is to go to a hospital, but other than that, the only thing you can do is rest. No more phone calls or automobile driving. Then you can have at least a chance of survival. »

What would Tommy do? Half of Italy at his backside trying to kill his family. Tommy would rather die of brain damage or blood loss than by the Changreta scum. And with that, the doctor left. 

“What’re we going to do, Thomas?” Polly asked.   
“Nothing. These doctors don’t know what they’re talking about. Paid to fucking lie. We need to get rid of the fucking Changretas or they’ll be no point in me surviving anyway.”  
“Thomas, you need to go to hospital. We’ll do whatever we need to for you to be safe. You look so pale; you won’t last till tomorrow like this. »  
“No, I’m needed here.” Polly could argue with him, but knew it would end in frustration and a row, “Please, just-.” She did. Polly left without further instruction. 

Next thing Thomas saw was waking up with vomit down his front, lying on the floor. No recollection of getting there. His head spun like he had just taken a pound of opium. Grasping his hands to the top of the desk, Tommy lifted himself onto his desk chair, dialling the number of the Garrison, where Tommy knew Grace Burgess was working. 

“Grace? Grace are you there?” Tommy asked as he breathed heavily.   
“Yes, Tommy. Are you okay?” she replied.   
“Something feels wrong. Can you come to my office?”   
“I’m on a shift.”  
“Tell Harry I’ll pay him whatever it wants to get you here. Just get here, now.”  
“Okay, Tom, I’ll be here as quick as I can.” She hung up the phone. 

The next thing Tommy remembered was the sound of the door opening, Grace, his beautiful girl, walking through with a smile on her face, until she saw him.   
“My god, Tommy. You look pale as a ghost,” she exclaimed.   
“Shut the door, shut the windows,” Tommy gasped for air.   
“Tommy I have to call an ambulance. I think you’re going to die.”   
« No, Grace. I’m not going to the hospital. Just- don’t leave. If I die I want you here with me. » Grace came and sat in front of the desk chair where Thomas was slouched with his head bowed, hands dropped below him. Grace held onto his hands and didn’t let go.   
“Tommy, it’s going to be okay.” Thomas has once again become unconscious.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Thomas Shelby woke up where he had been, Grace still by his side.   
“Grace?” Tommy asked, eyes shut. “Are you there?”  
“Of course, Tommy. I’ll never leave. Tommy, your brothers are here.”   
“Okay. You go have some rest.” Tommy retrieved some money from his suit pocket and handed it over to Grace. “Give it to Harry. Say sorry for the inconvenience.” Grace left, leaving John and Arthur in the room. 

“Tom, we found a way for you to go to hospital,” Arthur began.   
“No, Arthur. I already said. I’m not going,” Tommy demanded.   
John took over, “Tommy, we thought of a way it can be used to help us from the Italians.”  
There was a moment’s silence where Thomas said nothing. 

Then Arthur continued with the plan, “While you are under operation, or recovery, or whatever, we get news to the Italians that you died in surgery. Everyone but us, Ada, and Aunt Polly would think you were dead. It’s at least enough time for you to get better, so you can think of a decent plan. Because really, our plans are hardly good at all. We need you back so we won’t be killed one by one. »  
Tommy said nothing for some time; the boys thought Tommy was out, but eventually, Tommy replied, “Fine. And if I do die in surgery, don't try to save me. Okay?”   
Arthur and John exchanged a look, before nodding. 

“We can’t have it plastered everywhere that I’m alive at all. Which means I can’t go by ambulance,” Tommy explained.   
“We’ll drive. It’s a risk, but it’ll be okay. Common. Let’s go. We can’t waste another minute. »

John and Arthur had one of Tommy’s arms were wrapped around their shoulder, his legs dragging behind. Thomas spent a lot of the dragging to the car, and indeed the car journey, throwing up, or unconscious. The bumpy car ride was sickening, the back of the car becoming a mixture of yellow vomit and deep red blood. Finally, they arrived in the hospital, met by many doctors who put Thomas quickly on a stretcher, taking him into an isolated hospital room, instantly preparing him for operation. 

Thomas woke up however many days later in a dark room, cold, lonely, where his head pounded heavily, and so did the rest of his body. Ached like they never had done before. 

The pain did remind him of that time, tunnelling, waiting for death. This was the feeling he felt now. Exhaustion, agonising pain like nothing else on earth. Sat up, he was, waiting for human contact. He wanted to see Grace, before remembering the plan. She couldn’t know he was alive. Polly Gray walked in eventually, after hours of staring into the wall, the shovels pounding harder than they ever had.

“It’s in the papers. Sergeant Major Thomas Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders, is dead. According to everyone but me, you, John, Ada and Arthur, Tommy is dead,” Polly explained.   
“How’s Grace?” Tommy asked.   
“She’s okay, though we don’t see much of her anymore, and she always looks as though she’d been crying.”  
“And- the Changretas?” Tommy asked.   
“They all think you’re dead, Thomas. We negotiated for them to leave us alone until your funeral. Now, we need to make a plan for what to do next.”   
“Just- I- need to do some work. How long do I stay down here for?”   
“There’s a desk paperwork paper and pen. Don’t work too hard, mind. In case that the doctor was right. It’s been a few weeks. You almost did die, Thomas.” Thomas scoffed, and she left. Sitting up to sit at his desk, to try to figure out a way, a possible way to outmanoeuvre the Italians. 

After hours of calibration, Thomas finally conjured a plan to beat the Changretas, a way his supposed death could help them. He called a family meeting in the hospital room to discuss plans, there only being Polly, John, Arthur, Ada, and Tommy. All the time, Tom only worried about Grace, how she was. 

“You alright, Tom?” Arthur asked, worried.   
“I have a plan, to kill as many of the Changretas as possible. It may not work, but it most likely will. We can use my death to our advantage.”  
Tommy continued to be sick in a bowl to the side of his desk, before leaning up to continue his plan. “At the funeral, I have heard word that the Changretas are planning to attack. We have it on open land, when we’re an easy target. When they open fire, Arthur and John will shoot back. When all that’s left is Luca, I will come out and shoot him. He won’t shoot back because he will be in shock. That’s the plan, it’s dangerous. But it’s the only thing that could work.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Ada asked.   
“I don’t know, Ada. In that case, I don’t know.”  
“And if Luca does shoot you. Tom you’re weak as a petal, no more bullets are going in you. I swear to God one more will finish you off,” Arthur pleaded.   
“If I die. Ada will continue the business.” Tommy didn’t care if he did die, looking at himself in the hospital bed, he was dead already.   
“When’s the funeral?” asked John.   
Tommy answered, “Tomorrow.”   
“You’re just going to discharge yourself from hospital? How are you going to get home unnoticed?” asked John.   
“Same way. I came in, John.”


	19. Chapter Nineteen

The day of the ‘funeral’, the entire family gathered at the open field with wagons. One wagon had wood and chairs surrounding it. To everyone but the close family, Tommy was in there. To Polly, the boys and Ada, Tommy was in another wagon, waiting for the Changretas to attack. Thomas could hear Grace crying outside, and all he wanted to do was hug her and make it all okay, but he had to stick to the plan. 

John began his eulogy, “Words can’t describe what happened. Because they haven’t invented the words to describe it. Tom is my brother, and always will-“ 

John was interrupted by gunshots, loud, exhorting across the fields. Everyone ducked, including John. Arthur remained standing, shooting wherever the bullet was coming from. John was shooting too, firing out. Thomas knew something was wrong when he jumped out of the wagon, Grace and Johnny Dogs and Charlie and Finn’s shocked and relieved faces becoming a smile. As planned, they were all dead, all the kin Luca Changreta brought with him from New York. As Tommy emerged into the field, he pointed his gun at Luca Changreta’s head. Bang. Luca shot Tommy in the stomach, and he crumbled to the ground, but not before shooting Luca between the eyes. 

Vision blurred, panicked, looking around to check everyone was okay. Arthur, Polly, Ada, Grace. They were all okay. As he glanced over at the crowd of what he saw as a black smudge, they were all okay. When looking over at John, he noticed that John was on the floor, still as a rock. Tommy crawled desperately over, pain shooting through his entire body like he’d never felt before. He shook John’s face and arms, before looking down to see five bullets in and across his torso. 

“John, John. Wake up. It’s okay John wake up just wake up,” Tommy begged so that no one else could hear but John. “Esme!” he called out for her. She ran over embracing John tightly.  
Lifting himself up onto his feet, Tommy ran over to Arthur, who was becoming incredibly worried. Tommy held his arms and rested his head against Arthur’s. 

“Tell me, Tom. What’s wrong with him? Is he okay?” Arthur asked quickly and in short breaths.   
Tommy whispered quietly into his ear, “Johns dead.” He sighed in pain and sorrow. “John’s dead.”

Arthur went over and told Pollly and Ada, while Grace ran to hug Thomas, the man she thought was dead.   
“Thomas, never go again. Never leave me again,” she begged. “Are you okay? Thomas, you’re bleeding.”  
“John’s dead,” Tommy replied. « Yeah, John’s dead. »  
« Tommy, I think you need to » Grace didn’t have to finish her sentence before Thomas collapsed, where Grace followed him.   
« I’ll get an ambulance, Tommy, » Grace rushes through her words.   
« No, Grace. Just- just get Arthur or Polly. » As Grace did so, Tommy grippes onto his stomach where the bullet remained. He didn’t murmer a word when Polly and Arthur rushed over, with Jeremiah.   
« Let’s get this bullet out’ya, Tom, » Jeremiah laughed, retrieving the blades from their caps, and beginning to pull the bullet from him.   
He didn’t groan or shout or cry, but remained silent, images of John, lying there on the floor, the images of John when they were kids, doing impressions and riding horses up Garrison Lane together. Once the bullet was out, everyone sighed in relief; Tommy was still so weak he could’ve died there too. 

Tommy stood up with the help of Arthur, and stumbled over to where John lay, looking over his body, Esme leaning over it with tears streaming down her face. 

« In the bleak midwinter, » Tommy wheezed. « While we’re here, while we have the wagon to burn, John. He said words can’t describe what it’s like to lose a brother. And he’s right; there’s nothing to say because nothing will ever be enough. Me, Jeremiah, Arthur, Danny Wizbang, Freddie Thorne, and John. The truth is, we died down there once before, in the tunnels; we left our souls and faith down there. We were cut off from the retreat. No bullets left. Waiting for the Prussian cavalry to come and to finish us off. Jeremiah said we should sing In the Bleak Midwinter. We all agreed, that when our time came, we would remember.” He paused for a moment, thinking about what to say that wouldn’t ruin the face he put on. “No man came back the same. Except John, who kept our spirits high when they were low, and really, he’s looked after us in ways we don’t know or appreciate.” 

“Thank you Thomas, that was touching,” Ada explained. “Shall we get you home?”   
“To me office, Ada.”

Tommy sat at his desk, taking calls, signing and writing paperwork, just as he always had. But Tommy did that, and only that, for days on end. No breaks or sleep or food, only his sweet whiskey sours and cocaine. 

He was becoming weaker than he was before, becoming more and more tired as the hours became days which became weeks, having just enough to survive. He had hardly heft his office, other than to see Grace, and meet with Aflie Solomons in an unlicensed location. Polly had had enough; Arthur and Ada and Uncle Charlie, all had enough of Tommy’s silence. Polly called a family meeting in Thomas’ office, having told everyone apart from him. Arthur was struggling, yes, but he solved his problems with whiskey and whores, while Tommy didn’t deal with them at all. At this moment in time, Thomas was sat with his hands reaching to the end of the table, head hanging down. His eyes were shut, but he wasn’t sleeping; no, he hadn’t done it in a long time now. 

“Thomas,” Ada began. “We know it’s been hard. We’ve all felt John’s absence, but we need you back. We need you back, Tom.”  
“We need someone to protect us, to get the money coming in, because we’re struggling. Almost back where we started, we are,” Arthur continued.   
“You want me to be honest?” Tommy asked.   
“Of course Tom, it’s all we want,” Grace answered.  
“I can’t.”  
“Why not, Tommy?” Polly asked, irritated by Thomas’ constant lack of information.

“I’ve been sitting here for weeks, trying to think of a way, think of a possible way, to-” He stopped. No one knew why, perhaps Tommy didn’t even know why, not really. “The coppers are investigating my ‘death’, as it were, and I don’t know what I’m going to do. Usually I can think, but it’s something I cannot bring myself to do.”

Tommy struggled to stand up as he wheezed into his hand. Polly continued, “Yes, Thomas, I did see on the paper. If you don’t mind my suggestion, I suppose we tell them the truth.”  
“The truth, when have we ever told the truth to the coppers?” asked Ada.  
“Ever since Tommy was in danger. And if Thomas is in danger, so are the rest of us. I do have a plan, Thomas, seen as you don’t.” Tom’s silence invited Polly to continue. “In many ways, the Changreta’s are in the wrong: they killed John, they nearly killed Tommy twice, they wanted Danny Wizz-Bang dead, we acted in self defense.”

Tommy nodded, before looking up. His nose and head were bleeding again. Yes, he had noticed, but no, it didn’t make a difference to him. Ada stood up and walked over to where Tommy kept an old rag, before striding back to where Thomas sat, throwing the rag to him in anger. Tommy ignored it, and began to speak, “Good, Pol. Apologies that I’m no- I- I just- I just can’t think straight. »

What happened next could be described with exhaustion, shell-shock, hunger, or anything in between. Thomas had been standing up for a couple minutes. In a moment of silence, without making eye contact with anyone, he fell to the floor, legs collapsing from under him. He dropped and didn’t get up. His eyes closed and his face grew pale. 

“Fuck,” said Arthur under his breath but so that everyone could hear. Running over to Tommy, smacking his face, shaking his body, he wasn’t waking up. “Fuck what do we do?” After checking his pulse, Arthur became even more worried. Tommy wasn’t breathing, and his heart was beating very slow.   
“Call an ambulance!” Polly shouted to Ada, who picked up the phone on Tommy’s desk and called for an ambulance. As Arthur sat Tom up, his eyes began to flicker.   
“Tom? Brother wake up,” Arthur rushes, lost for better words.   
“I- wh- what?” Tommy replied, confused and struggling for breath.   
« Tom we’ve got an ambulance on the way. It’s going to be okay, just, get on my shoulder and we’ll get you downstairs. »  
« Grâce? » Tommy struggled to open his eyes fully. Grace ran over and stroked her hand along his cold cheek. « I can’t see, Grace. I can’t fucking see. » 

Grace held tight onto his hand and didn’t let go as she said, « Don’t go, Tommy. Don’t leave me again. » Tommy was helped to his feet by Arthur and Jeremiah, who held most of his weight as he struggled to the front door to the offices. Once they had exited the building, an ambulance was waiting for them. Grace went with him, still holding his hand having not let go since before. 

« Because of your early discharge, you weren’t fully recovered. We don’t entirely know what happened and we can’t be certain it won’t happen again, but I can say for certain that it wasn’t only to do with your injury. Were you in the war, Mr Shelby? » the doctor began. Tommy nodded slightly. « Do you experience visions or night terrors concerning the war? » Tommy said nothing, neither shaking. or nodding his head. The doctor got the message and continued. « The war can change a man. »   
Thomas scoffed before finally speaking, « No man came back the same. »


	20. Chapter Twenty

« Right, now we’re moving up in the world, we need to become more legal. This is becoming a legitimate business, we need to think smarter than before. Stop the protection; stay on the tracks. I’ve negotiated with Moss to put in words in Parliament. I’m going to run for the British Socialist Party, » Tommy said.

« My god, Tommy! » Ada laughed. « You can’t stop, can you? »   
« It would appear not. Arthur, I need you to call whoever needs calling. I want to open three institutions for destitute orphans, all in past workhouses. Ada, speak to some of Freddie’s old comrades, I want it known we welcome all beliefs and tolerate all religions and practices. Charlie, light a fire in a field far away from here; don’t tell anyone where it is other than me.” 

Thomas left the room to retrieve his black horse from Charlie’s Yard, where he did not put on a saddle, for he felt the need to feel the soft skin of the horse’s back against him. He climbed on, riding through the streets of Small Heath, sometimes to remind people who run the town, but mostly, to give Tommy time to think. Time to process it all. He stopped at the Garrison for a drink, where Grace served him Irish Whiskey, the same as he always had. 

“Arthur said you’re off for the night. It’s a shame, I thought we could… spend some time together,” Grace said with a smile across her face.   
“I’m sorry, Grace,” Tommy replied, brushing his hand across her cheek. “I need to think.”   
Thomas swallowed the last sip of whiskey and left the pub, climbing back onto his shiny black horse, where he rode into the distant fields, far enough away so he couldn’t smell the Birmingham air anymore. 

Tommy stared at the fire and wondered how easy it would be for him to jump in. He couldn’t. Shelby Company Limited was becoming a legitimate business, and the vote for Tommy to become a Member of Parliament was tomorrow. It was time to change, time to become something. The family was in the papers almost every day, good or bad. He ran campaigns for MP, but it always came down to the votes. 

Thomas was still cooped up in his Watery Lane home; he had never quite managed to leave. If he became wealthier, maybe he could buy a large house in the countryside, the outskirts of Birmingham. Somewhere he could call home. Somewhere for him and Grace to marry, start a family. 

Just as he began to think of his life with Grace, the sun had risen for another day, and Tommy climbed atop his black horse and rode home, through the fields, through the streets, stopping at the Garrison. 

“You okay, Tom?” Harry began. “Grace said you’ve been gone all night.”   
“Whiskey, Irish,” Tommy ignored his question. Harry did as he was asked and after swallowing a large glass, he returned to his black horse and rode to the offices, beginning more overdue paperwork. The opening of the new institutions was coming up, Tommy and Grace being the founders of them; he signed forms for safety and catering and hiring and much more. 

Grace entered Tommy’s office with a handful more sheets of ink on paper, whether from typewriter or hand. “Thomas, we’ve got lists as long as our arms to complete, most of them for before last week,” Grace began.   
“Just, put it on the pile, Grace,” Tommy replied. Grace did so, placing the paperwork on the mound of paper he had already, before sitting down in the seat in front of his desk.   
“Tommy I need to talk to you about something. I was going to tell you later but you appear to need cheering up,”   
“What’s on your mind, Grace?”   
“I’m pregnant, Thomas.”   
“You’re pregnant?”   
“Yes, Thomas. I’m pregnant.”  
“We’ve had enough death, let’s have some life.”


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

December 29th 1929  
“Thomas, are you taking the children to Polly’s?” Grace groaned across the drawing room.   
“You said you were, Grace,” Tommy replied with a sigh.   
“No, Thomas, you’re taking them and I’m picking them up tomorrow.”  
Tommy raised his voice, “Grace! They’re your children! You can take them!”  
“They’re your children too, Thomas,” Grace remained calm. “Tommy, I think we need to talk.”   
“What’s, Grace.” Silence. “Grace, what!”  
“It’s been hard, for both of us, since the kids, since we bought the house, since you became an MP, now we don’t see so much of you. I’ve put up with your anger and ignorance and general rudeness for a long time now. but I’ve had enough. I have had enough of always arguing with you.” Grace left a gap for Tommy to speak, but he said nothing. “I called a lawyer in London; I’ve filed for a divorce.”

“No,” Tommy said calmly and abruptly. “You marry a Shelby; you stay fucking married.” Without further words, Tommy got up from where he was sat, and walked with anger into his office, sat at his desk, and called Arthur.   
“Arthur?”   
“Yes Tom?”  
“Can you find out where a lawyer in London is who has contact with Grace?”  
“What’s happened, Tom?”   
“Just do it, and tell me where he is.”  
“Okay, Tom.” 

Tommy hung up the phone and sat, waiting, while the hours passed by, and while maids came in and out with whiskey, and food, all of which Tommy rejected. Grace even came in at one point in an attempt to talk, but he said nothing. Finally, hours later, the phone rang, and Thomas picked it instantly up. Arthur told him the address of the lawyer, where Tommy instantly headed to. 

“Are you… Charles Bowman?” Tommy said as he walked into an office with a man sitting at the desk.   
“Yes, who are you?”   
“I’m Thomas Shelby… MP.”  
“Oh yes, your wife called about a divorce.”   
It’s difficult to explain what happened next, Thomas beating and attacking the man within an inch of his life. After the man was bound to the floor, Tommy retrieved his flat cap from his blazer pocket, using the razor to slash his eyes and ears. He kept slashing and punching and kicking until he stopped moving.   
“Shelby’s stay married!” he shouted into what was left of his ear. 

Tommy drove home with the lawyer in his car boot, before returning to Small Heath and weighed the man down to the bottom of the Cut, before walking to the Garrison, where Arthur already was, “What did you do, Tom? Maddie on the phone exchange said they heard screams from a lawyer’s office in London, and now he’s disappeared. What did you do, Tom?”  
“I did what I had to do, brother,” Tommy replied.   
“It’s not going to keep Grace, you know that.”  
“It gives me a chance at least… Anyway, I have calls to make, I need to get home.” Tommy left the pub and drove home to his large house in the countryside. 

“Mr Shelby! Come quick!” shouted one of the maids as Tommy climbed out of his automobile. “There’s been an accident.”  
Tommy ran faster than he thought he could, followed the maids to the master bedroom, the door closed.   
“Mr Shelby, brace yourself, please.”   
As Thomas opened the door, he saw a lot of nothing. Black curtains, grey bed sheets, black and grey, floor to ceiling. 

“Fuck,” Tommy exclaimed. As he walked through the room, he saw it. “No no no this can’t be happening. How did it happen it doesn’t make sense!” As he walked around the bed to see what was hidden behind it, his head fell dizzy. Charlie and Grace. He watched as they still had their hands held despite being deceased on the floor.

“We found a pack of matches in your wife’s pocket, sir,” a maid explained. “We think she did it herself.”  
“Get out,” Tommy asked quietly. After no one did anything, he repeated it louder. Then they did. The maids and the doctors all left.   
“It was me. I drove her to do it. It was fucking me,” Tommy said to himself. “In the bleak midwinter…” 

A thought occurred to him, and he left the room before he had even thought it through.   
“Where’s Ruby?!” he shouted to anyone who could hear. « Where is she? »  
“She left, Mr Shelby. We tried to find her, but couldn’t. We think she saw what happened and fled,» one of the maids explained. There was silence as Tommy stared at the floor. « Mr Shelby, sir; we’ve sent every man we could find to find your daughter. I am certain she will be recovered and returned home. » 

After minutes of Tommy saying nothing, the nurses and doctors and maids left. Tommy returned to his office, dialing for Polly.   
« Yes, Polly? » Tommy asked, holding back a groan.   
« Tommy? » Polly replied. « Francis called, told me there was a fire; I’m leaving the house in ten minutes to come over. »  
« They’re gone, Pol. All of them. »   
« What are you talking about Thomas? »   
« Jus- just get here Polly. » Tommy hung up the phone and dialled for Arthur, then for Ada. They were all leaving to come to him. Emergency family meeting. Anyone who was kin.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Thomas sat as he always did at his desk: hands reaching far to the edge as they could, head bowed down.   
« Tommy, I can’t even begin to-. » Ada began.   
« Stop. » Tommy replied without emotion or justice. « What happened today, was an accident. »   
Tommy was about to continue his speech about how gas and electrics don’t mix, when Arthur interrupted, « Francis, your maid, told me what happened. I told Polly, Polly told Ada. »   
“We’re going to find Ruby, Tommy,” Ada added. “We will, I promise you, Tom.” Tommy wasn’t planning on replying, more waiting for someone else to, when the phone rang. 

« Am I talking to Mr Shelby? » a man on the other end began.   
« Speaking. Who is this? » Tommy continued.   
« I’m from the children's services, I heard you had a scrap in your house. You were told your daughter, Ruby Shelby, ran away, am I correct? »   
« Yes, is that not correct? »   
« I’m afraid not. »  
« What is correct? »  
« We were the first at the scene. We saw your daughter, she claimed it was you who set the fire. We took her away. I’m afraid it was too late for your wife and son. »  
« You have my daughter, you have Ruby? »   
« Yes, Mr Shelby. And there will be inquiries. To who started the fire. »  
« Can I get her back? »   
« I’m afraid because of the criminal inquiries, Mr Shelby, we cannot return your daughter to you. »   
Tommy hung up the phone after that last line. 

“I had a plan, to get Ruby back. That plan has now changed. Despite the fact that I was in London, social services believe I started the fire,” Tommy began. “I need to prove it wasn’t me.”  
“How the fuck are you going to do that, Tom?” Arthur asked. 

Tommy covered his eyes with his right hand, and continued. “I don’t know, Arthur. I don’t fucking know. They could send a copper any moment, any time. We need to be prepared. I have a plan. It may not work but it’s something. I have information I have been withholding for some time now, with personal relation to the King. I will be arrested. Nothing will stop that. I’ll be set to be hanged, no doubt. Before I am hanged, you make it known to Mr Churchill that I have the information. And if I am hanged you will deliver them directly to the Irish Republican Army. »

« My god, Tom. And if the plan doesn’t work? » Ada asked.   
« Then… bang. Splat. Company goes to Ada. no further questions, » Tommy continued, still having made no eye contact with anyone, eyes still pointed at the floor. « The papers are in an envelope ready for posting to the IRA ready. The letter to Mr Churchill is there too. » 

And just as they began to talk about strategies, three coppers stormed into the room and ran over to Tommy, who did not resist or fight, but let it happen, staring deep into the wall in front of him, where he could still hear the shovels against the walls he was taken through. “Ada, you’re in charge while I’m gone. If I don’t come back, you’re in charge for good.”


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

Tommy sat on the floor of the prison cell, having not moved from the same position in days. They force fed him because he didn’t take the food they gave him. He lost a lot of weight, looked like he did in France, nothing left of him. He didn’t sleep at all, that he remembered, at least. His family left him. 

He hardly noticed officers come in and out anymore. Breathing was a chore, living was a chore, not hanging himself or slitting his throat was slavery to him. Until one day he was saved, just half a day before his planned hanging, he was visited. Tommy prepared himself to put up a fight, thinking it was a man who had come to feed him, but it was a different man to before. 

« Mr Shelby, for undisclosed reasons, you are required to stay alive, » a man began. « You’ll be let out tomorrow morning. » Tommy didn’t say anything. « Good afternoon, Mr Shelby. » The man left, without Tommy ever having gotten a glance of him. 

Thomas leaving the prison was like leaving behind a piece of him, his last emotion was back there, the last ounce of happiness down in the gallows. Tommy didn’t want anyone to pick him up, rather wanted someone to drop off his automobile outside. He drove home weak, to his home in what Johnny Dogs called paradise. Paradise was lonely, only Tommy, some maids, and a cook who came up from the kitchen from time to time. Tommy sat at the end of a long dining table, one that once seated 30 people, but now held just one. There was a selection of food in front of him, dinner, food of all varieties. He looked at it, granted, but simply moved on to his cigarette. It had been so long since he had had one, that he appreciated it, really did. Like in France, he enjoyed it until it burned his finger and thumb. 

Once Tommy had entered his office, and began the large pile of paperwork which had been stacking up since his leave of absence, Polly walked in, the loud tapping of her heels against the wood coming closer. Tommy acted as though she wasn’t there, continued writing and signing letters and papers. Polly sat down in one of the chairs in front of her, and there was silence for a minute. Polly was expecting Thomas to speak, Thomas expecting Polly to. 

Finally, Polly began, “While you were gone, the coppers proved it was Grace who started the fire.”  
“What about Ruby?” Tommy asked.   
“We started an appeal to get Ruby back, and we were winning, but then they called interviews with the maids. One of them told the coppers you used to argue often. They believe it was you who drove her to do it. They won’t give her back, Thomas.” Polly half expected an answer, one related to Ruby, but instead she got business.  
“How are the books?”   
“Up slightly.”  
“And the institutions?”  
“Good. Although there are issues concerning the founder of the establishment. Since the co-owner is deceased, and the other has just gotten out of prison, it’s future is in jeopardy.”  
“Fuck,” Tommy whispered under his breath. “Family meeting, here, this afternoon.”   
Polly left without further words. 

“Right, things have changed. I’ve done some research into racehorses and training. I’ve found someone who can train a horse. For the Epsom Derby.”   
“Tom, you need to eat, you look like you haven’t in days,” Arthur worried, as he always did. “You need to get some meat on you.”  
“There’s an auction today, I’m going to buy a horse,” Tommy reinstated.  
“We’ll come with you, Tom,” Arthur explained. “Me, Johnny, Curly, Scudboat, some boys from the Garrison. You’ve got a lot of people who want you dead, brother.”  
“That’s sorted, then... beat. You can go,” Tommy explained. Of course, he wanted them to stay. He wanted company, but company was not available anymore. Not in Tommy’s eyes, anyway. 

“Where’s the auction, Tom?” Ada asked.   
“In the Black Country,” Tommy replied.   
“We better leave now, then, Tom,” Curly explained, laughing at his cleverness.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

Tommy, Jeremiah, Finn, Arthur, Curly, and Johnny stood on the balcony, waiting for the horse. The horse Thomas wanted, the horse he had researched. Once it had come out into the pitch, Tom betted. He was up against competition, so had to bet further than he would have liked. But, he got the horse, and after the auction was finished, they went down to the pitch to collect her. 

As the walked along, there was a man, sitting at a desk, holding his hand under his coat. Tommy was smart, but Tommy was also tired, so it was slower than usual. As they walked across the pitch, the man at the desk stood up, pulled his hand out of his coat, which was now known to be carrying a Lewis gun, which he cocked and pointed at Thomas’ chest. In the normal way, Tommy would resist, move away, holding his gun up too, but Tommy wanted this, felt that he deserved it.   
“Murdering gypsy bastard,” the man shouted before he took fire. Two shots; two bullets, bang, bang. Straight into Tommy’s chest.   
“Ah, fuck,” Tommy exclaimed in annoyance. Finn, the youngest brother, ran over, but Thomas brushed him off as though nothing happened. Arthur had already shot the man in the head, then came over to Tommy. 

“Tom, are you alright?” Arthur worried.  
“Get the ‘orse, Arthur,” Tommy replied. Thomas felt nothing, then everything at once. He held his hands against his ears as he crouched to the floor, but he could still hear the shovels, which scraped loud and close, not against the wall anymore, more against the inside of his skull. He breathed loudly and deeply, trying to drown out the noise with his groans and shouts, but the sounds in his head couldn’t be silenced with the sounds out there. 

« Tom, what’s happening? » Arthur asked.   
« Tommy? Are you okay? » worried Johnny Dogs. Tommy’s head was bowed, and when it arose again, he saw not the men he came with, but Grace, Greta, Charlie, John, his mother, his grandfather, the men he killed in the tunnels, and just a handful of the men he killed on the front line, all of which he recognised instantly.   
« Tom, what’s wrong? Why are you looking at us like that? » asked Greta.   
« Are you okay, brother? You're frightening me, » John worried. 

Tommy recalled back in France, the time Arthur was in the medics, when he was looking out across the field, how to blink made it go away. And that is what he did, Tommy blinked. And it all went away. Greta was in fact Johnny, and John was in fact Arthur. Tommy sighed. He had done it again, however this time he was not alone in Watery Lane, in the safety of his home, but in the middle of an auction pitch, surrounded by people who now doubted him. 

« Sorry, boys I just- I, » Tommy began. Saying nothing seemed easier than telling the truth.   
« It’s okay, Tom. You don’t have to explain, » Arthur said while helping Tommy to stand up. « Let’s just get these things out’ya. » Sitting Thomas down on the chair the man with the gun was sat on, Arthur pulled the bullets out of Thomas’ chest, while Tommy sat in silence, waiting for it to be over. Not just this moment, but everything. He wanted it to stop, all of it. He was waiting for the last bullet to shoot through, the one that would finally kill him. He who fights by the sword dies by the sword. 

« Common brother, let’s get ‘ome, » Arthur explained, helping Tommy up. They didn’t have bandages, just hoped to hurry home quick enough, or for the bleeding to stop before it ran out. 

The car journey home was silent until they were almost back in Small Heath.   
« Tommy, » Finn began. « What happened? You were shaking like hell. Why were you covering your ears? » Tommy said nothing apart from an audible sigh.   
Jeremiah replied for him, « We don’t ask Tommy about it. We don’t ask him about things he doesn’t talk about. »  
« Why? » Finn disagreed.   
Arthur replied, « Because, Finn. When he talks about France, he falls apart, and when he falls apart, we’re fucked. » Tommy scoffed at this remark. « Anyway, back in the shithole of Small Heath, boys! » 

After being bandaged, Tommy took himself to his office, where he stopped everything, for just a moment. The shovels beat loud, heavy gunfire and shells dropping remained in his head. Slowly, he brought himself back to the world, and when he did, Ada was there in front of him, without him having noticed. “Sorry, Ada. I was… not focusing,” Tommy began, beginning to think of excuses as to his actions. 

“Tommy? Tommy you look really pale,” Ada replied, softly, so she didn’t scare him. “Tommy, can you hear me?” In truth, he couldn’t. The screaming of the guns and shells and shovels and soldiers drowned out the noise of Ada’s calm words. “Tommy, why don’t you sit down; we can talk.” Thomas sat down, following Ada’s instructions and worry. She passed him a glass of water from the side of the desk, and he drank it in small sips over the course of a silent minute or two. “What’s going on, Tommy.”  
“Greta, Ada. That’s where it started,” Tommy began. “You know I started to see her. Before France, in France. When we got back, all I could hear were the shovels scraping against my head. I started to see not only Greta, but all the people who died, mum, John, Grace, Charlie, Lizzie, all the men from France I killed with me own hand. Now I see them whenever I look up quick enough. Now, day and night, I hear not only the shovels, but the shells and gunfire, men screaming. Constantly, so loud it drowns the real world out. That’s what’s wrong, Ada.”

“Tommy… I had no idea it got so bad.”  
“Well it has, Ada. And now I don’t know what to do about it.”  
“I only have one way I think could help.”  
“I’m not going to a doctor, Ada.”  
“It’s the only way, Tom.”  
“No, I’m not rotting in an insane asylum like Barney. I’m not, Ada.”  
“I know, I know, Tommy. But you can’t live another year like this. You have to get help in some way or another. There are doctors in Edinburgh; you just talk, they listen, give advice. You won’t end up like Barney, I swear.”  
“Once. Once, I will go. No more.” There was a moment’s silence. Tommy never accepted help, so for him to seek guidance was unheard of.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

There was silence as Thomas sat in front of a man he had never met before, why on Earth would he share his troubles with him. After minutes of silence, the man sat in front began.  
“I am Dr Owens, your sister, Ada Thorne, explained you were having some… difficulties. She explained to me what has been happening. There are many men in your position, more common in sergeant majors and officers, which she says you are. It is not uncommon, there are over 8000 cases in Britain so far. Your symptoms are quite severe, and it seems you have been experiencing them for quite some time. There are some treatment options available, but I personally would recommend more talks like this, whether with myself or with your sister. It has proven more effective than electrotherapy and disciplinary treatment. What do you think of that, Mr Shelby?” Tommy thought about it; thought about the options in front of him, but decided against it all. He stormed out of the room after giving the man a substantial amount of money to not tell Ada what happened. 

He drove to Margate, a long drive, but one of contemplation. He drove to where Alfie Solomons was staying, away from the noise of London, where he was having troubles with Sabini over racetracks.   
“Hello, Tommy!” Alfie began. “I hear you’ve got troubles at your end. Got people after you here, there and everywhere.”  
“You haven’t got it easy yourself, Alfie,” Tommy replied. “According to yesterday’s paper, you are dead.”  
“It is true, I am believed to be dead. Sabini took a shot at me, and to be fair, I looked pretty dead. However, I am… alive. I’ve been staying in Margate. Peaceful, it is, mate. Maybe you’d be better off with a Margate of your own, Tom, you think? »  
« I have things to do, Alfie. »  
I’ve realised, that life is so much easier to deal with when you are dead. I was lying out there, on the beach, and the tide had come in, and it woke me up. I remember looking around and thinking ‘fuck, if this is hell, then it looks a lot like Margate.’ »  
“Maybe that’s just what hell looks like, eh?”  
“No, not according to this holy book right here, yeah? It gives a very, very vivid description. You and I are both fucked, mate.”  
“Do you read the papers, Alfie?”  
“No, don’t be silly.”  
“But you’ve heard.”  
“What? »  
« Fascism. »  
« Yeah. » Jewish Alfie Solomons held his gun up to the deputy leader of the British Union of Fascists, Alfie unaware Tommy was working against the leader, Oswald Mosley, to bring the organisation down. Tommy simply looked at the gun, without flinching. “Three, two, one, bang. No? Fine.”  
“Good Lord, your fucking condition, has got worse, mate. Mine, on the other hand, I’ve been living the dream. Sometimes, I will shoot at a boat. And sometimes, I’ll sit here, and shoot at the old seagull.”  
“Alfie, I’m going to shoot Oswald Mosley.”  
“What’s wrong with you, Tommy? Is your mind somewhere else?”  
“Yes, it is actually.”  
“Why do you need to shoot him?”  
“I need to organise a riot, Alfie, right. And I hear you still have some standing in the Jewish community.”  
“Let me be clear, right. Since my resurrection, I am considered to be a God, all right? In the holy land, someone has made an image of me out of a rock… Are you going to shoot him because he is evil?”  
“I need men who can fight. Mosley uses men from Glasgow. So if the men causing the riot are Jewish, it will be… explicable.”  
“Since when do you need explanations, Tommy?”  
“Since I entered politics.”  
“Oh that’s right, yeah. And how has that been for you, Tom?”  
“Gangs, wars, truces, nothing I didn’t already know.”  
“So, you think, if you kill him, you will kill the message, yeah?”  
“I will kill the man, then I will kill the message.”  
“You’re still at it then, Tom? You ain’t got no Margate to go to.”  
“No, I have no interest in shooting seagulls.”  
“Oh, but you do in shooting cabinet ministers, yeah?”  
« Yeah. »  
“I was on a lot of drugs at first, right, due to the pain, you know. I had a recurring dream. I saw you in a field right? With a big black horse. You said goodbye, and then… bang.”  
“Alright, well, what now?  
“I will continue until I find a man I can’t defeat.”

Tommy left the room without further words, driving back up to Birmingham, to the Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Tommy had a plan, which could go very wrong. But if it went as planned, it could save the world from a fascist, Oswald Mosley. 

Thomas walked through the dark corridor towards Barnet Thomason’s cell, where he sat on a chair. Barney was curled up in the corner when he arrived, but now sat up in disbelief as to who was visiting him, someone he hadn’t seen since their days in France. 

“Sergeant Major? Is that you?” Barney asked, confused and baffled.   
“Yes, Barney.”  
“Thank you for your letters, sir.”  
“Arthur mostly writes them, I just sign at the bottom.”  
“What’s going on out there, Tommy?”  
“John’s dead, Freddie’s dead, Danny’s dead, Jeremiah preaches barefoot on the cobbles, Arthur’s alive, and I’m alive. Just about.”  
“I saw in the paper the other day, Tommy, that you are now a politician. Couldn’t believe it.”  
“Sometimes, I am, Barney. Sometimes.”  
“I hear you’ve had it worse than me, eh?”  
“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”  
“What’s been happening?”  
“Wife killed herself and my son. Daughter taken from social services. Papers think it was me. Public thinks it was me. Ada insists I go to a doctor about some things, but that didn’t work.”  
“What things, Tommy?”  
“Shovels, shells, screams. You know what I mean, eh?”  
“Yeah, Tom. I know what you mean.” There was a moment’s silence. “Why’d you come, Sergeant Major?”  
“Things are happening, Barney. Someone needs to die. In France, you were the best sniper, never missed. I need someone who won’t question it.”  
“Good luck getting me out of here, Tommy,” Barney laughed.   
“Wednesday evening, Barney. I’ll come for you.”  
“Can’t keep track of days down here, Tommy.”  
“You’ll know it’s Wednesday because there’ll be a big fucking bang.”  
“Big fucking bang, big fucking bang. Okay Tommy!”

Thomas left, driving back home to his office in Small Heath, where he planned for the next couple of weeks. He called Michael (Polly’s son, now in a very important position in the company, having just gotten back from America with his new wife Gina), Arthur, and the rest of the kin and gypsies, telling them of a family meeting in the Garrison later that day. 

Polly arrived in his office, came and sat down in front of him. “Hello, Thomas,” she began. “You know I have taken Michael’s side, and always will. There’s going to be a war; one of you will kill the other. I can’t tell who.” Polly placed a piece of paper on Tommy’s desk. “My resignation.”


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

As Tommy walked into the Garrison, the family were already there, as he walked over to the fireplace.   
“Item one, there’s going to be an event-” Tommy was interrupted by Michael, Polly’s daughter, who stood in front of him, and began to talk.  
“Before you go on Tommy, there’s something I’d like to say to the whole family directly, regarding finances and the future of this company,” Michael began. “According to your own calculations, this new venture of the delivery and shipment of opium will bring into the company around £2 million per year. Therefore, due to the amounts involved, I think this company should be restructured.”  
Polly interrupted, “Michael, I think this can wait until after the family meeting.”  
Tommy disagreed, “Restructured in what way?”  
“Because of the amounts of money involved, shipment and dispatch will become the primary source of income for the company,” Michael continued.  
Gina, Michael’s wife, agreed, “It’s simple mathematics.”

Michael explained, “With the help of my wife, I will organise an expansion into America, where the narcotics business is just beginning to grow. See, I have very good contacts in Detroit, New York, Boston, who I’ve already spoken to about this. And Gina has family who are very experienced in this kind of business. According to the conversations I’ve had with them, with a regular supply of pure opium from China, within a short space of time, the American narcotics will bring in 20 million per annum. Enough money for you all to enjoy an easing of the burden you all now feel. See, I know that the scars and wounds, they are on the inside, not the outside. And as a member of the new generation, I’m able to take the burden off your weary shoulders. A new decade is coming. There’ll be new opportunities in new territories. More money than we’ve ever had before. Tommy, you can still do the good work that deep down you still want to do. Mum, you can get married and live in that big house. Arthur, you can be the good man Linda wants you to be. Finn, you’ve proved yourself. You’re part of the new generation. You could come to New York with me.” Finn gave a smirk to this, before Tommy stared at him deeply, and he stopped the smile immediately. 

Gina passed a business plan to Michael, who reapproached Tommy with it. “Here is my proposal. A full restructuring of the company. I will be managing director, you will be non-executive chairman, but under an assumed name to protect your reputation. I’ve found the name of a dead man. You will be registered as Mr Jones. You will each receive a percentage of the profits at an annuity, and you will no longer have to engage in any of the associated activities. Take a look at the future of the company, Tommy. At least read it with an open mind. »

After looking at the front cover business paper for a moment, Tommy explained, “It’s cold in here, Michael,” before turning around to the lit fireplace behind him, and throwing the papers in. 

Michael continued, angrier this time, “Tommy, the Americans want to deal with me.”  
« Item number three-. »  
Gina explained, “Tell him the truth… Go on. He can take it.”  
“Tell me the truth, Michael,” Tommy scoffed.  
“The Americans don’t want to deal with an old-fashioned, backstreet razor gang. Those days are done,” Mcihael explained.  
“Right, everyone but myself, Polly, Gina and Michael… leave now. We’ll continue the meeting when we will not be interrupted with the ‘younger generation’.” They followed his orders and left without question. In nothing other than frustration, resentment and pain, Tommy turned around so he was facing the wall, placed each of his hands at the far end of the mantelpieces, and bowed his head so he was looking at his shoes. 

“I’m doing this for you, Tommy,” Michael explained. “It’s time. And you know it. Tommy, mum’s leaving, John’s, dead, Arthur needs help, Ada’s man was killed on your own backyard because you fucked up!” As Michael’s voice grew louder, Tommy’s face scrunched in pain, considering what he could do next; what the options were. He decided, grabbed the knife he held in his pocket, spun around, picked up a glass from the table in front and smashed it across the room. In the act, Michael had grabbed the knife off Tommy, and held it out for him to take. “Go on, Tom. Go on, cut me. Like the good old days. Or… see this for what it is. A natural succession, that someday must happen.” 

Tommy thought about it for a moment, again; thought about what he could do, how badly he could hurt him, but stopped himself from doing anything because Polly would be angry, “I gave you an opportunity, Michael, and you betrayed me. Don’t be here when I get back.” It took Tommy a lot of restraint to stop himself from seriously hurting Michael, but he did, and he left the room. 

Heading over to the now-freed Barney, Tommy gathered the men involved in the plan. “Barney!” Tommy exclaimed. “You know the plan?”  
“You check your stop-watch. Count to ten. Bang,” Barney agreed.  
“What are you planning, Tommy?” Uncle Charlie asked.  
“There’s a fascist rally tomorrow night, the announcement of the British Union of Fascists. Oswald Mosley is heading it, and as deputy, I will be standing next to him,” Tommy explained. « That bastard needs to die. Which is why I have brought in Barney Thomason. In France he was the best sniper there. Never missed a shot.”  
“Barney Thomason is going to shoot Oswald Mosley?” asked Arthur.  
“Yeah, and then I will make a speech about how the cause he died for must continue, and I, as the new leader of the party, will make sure it does.”   
“Barney Thomason, shell shocked asylum escaper is going to shoot an MP, while you are standing just a few feet away?” asked Johnny Dogs. 

“Dead right, Johnny,” Tommy continued. “Arthur and Johnny will be backstage. Ready to leave fast if necessary. There’s a balcony above the audience where Barney will shoot from. Everyone else will listen to the radio, awaiting updates. Alfie Solomons has arranged for a group of Jews to march into that rally in protest. Amongst the confusion, I will check my pocket-watch, which is a que for Barney to fire. That’s the plan.”   
“And you’ll sacrifice an old comrade for this?” Johnny asked.   
“Barney is registered as criminally insane. If they catch him, they won’t shoot him because of insanity; they’ll just throw him back where I found him. It’ll be like a strange holiday, which he’ll probably believe never happened. Right, I need to sort some things out regarding Michael. Arthur, sober up Barney and give him some practice. We’re going to have a busy weekend.”


	27. Twenty Seven

Bright lights; audience full of people shouting ‘parish judah’, and Oswald Mosley making his utterly disgusting speech about the future of Britain, and the needed absence of Jews. Thomas stood next to him, Barney stood with his gun pointed, ready to shoot, Arthur and Johnny were backstage, ready to make a swift getaway. 

The group of Jews charged into the hall, distracting Oswald’s security for a split second. It was time. Tommy checked his stopwatch. 10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. On two, Tommy looked up at the balcony to see a splatter of red against the window. Fuck, he thought to hiself as he looked over to Arthur cradling Johnny’s head.   
“Mosley, I think we should take our leave,” Tommy explained. Tommy stormed through the halls of the building, finding a dressing room which was open. Mirrors everywhere, Tommy had to look at himself, face himself, his biggest enemy. Shovels, shells, gus, louder than they ever had been before, as Tommy paced up and down the room. The door opened suddenly, which Tommy instantly held his gun out to. Thank goodness, it was just Arthur. 

“What the fuck ‘appened, Tom?” Arthur asked. “They killed Johnny and they came for me too. Who, Tom? Who did this?”  
“I don’t know Arthur. I don’t fucking know. Titanic, Michael, Churchill, Italians, Alfie, Mosley. Mosley knew nothing. MOSLEY KNEW NOTHING!”   
“Stop, Tom. You’re frightening me.” Tommy stopped shouting, stopped the anger and fright, sat down on a chair, head resting in his hands, eyes wide.   
« Who? Who? Who Arthur? »


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

Tommy stood facing the fountain of his house, Arthur stood behind him, by car. « Tommy, let’s go inside. We’ll have tea and whiskey, we can figure it out, Tom, » Arthur pleaded, since Tommy hadn’t spoken since the dressing room. « Common, Tom. »  
« No Arthur. Maybe I’ve found the man I can’t defeat. »  
« Michael? »

« No… I need to walk. » Tommy left without further words, left the premises, left to a foggy field. He began to run towards the vision of Grace, screaming bloody murder, gun pointed against his head. He was ready. He was never so ready to end it all. He took a deep breath, before cocking the gun in his hands, fingers ready to pull the trigger. Click click. Click click. « Fuck! » Tommy shouted as he opened the gun’s canister to see it was empty. « FUCK! » he’s exclaimed, so loud that Arthur, who was already headed his way, could hear Tommy’s anger. 

« Tommy, » Arthur shouted across the field. « Tommy stop! Stop, Tom. We can figure it out! »   
Tommy squatted down so his left hand was resting on his left thigh and his right hand was in front of him with the gun still held in it. Thomas groaned as Arthur came up to him, having seen what he just did, and snatched the gun off him. Arthur patted Tommy on the shoulder as an indication that it was okay, and that he was there for him. Tommy stood up, Arthur resting his hands on Thomas’ shoulders. 

“Tommy, we need you. We need you, Tom. Or Michael will kill us all. Come on, let’s go inside.”

They did. Tommy and Arthur went inside the house, sitting in his office. They had been for twenty minutes, in silence, until Arthur shattered the silence, “Tommy, talk to me.”

“Polly’s gone with Michael and Gina. Finn may too. Barney and Johnny are dead. Oswald is still alive, and so am I,” Tommy replied, listing the bad things that had just happened. “It’s me, you and Ada, brother.” 

Ada walked through the door, “Tommy? What happened? Mosley’s still alive. I was listening to the radio, they shot Barney dead. They couldn’t find Johnny Dogs’ body, I think whoever did it took him with them. They’re assuming it was nothing other than an escaped prisoner’s work. Unless Alfie said something? Who, Tommy? » Ada began. 

« Michael. I think it’s Michael, » Tommy began. « We need to stop him. »  
« How? » asked Ada.   
« Big fucks small, Ada, » Tommy replied. « Arthur, speak to the Lees. We need as many men as we can get. Ada, talk to Polly. Tell her you don’t know which side to take in this war, and tell me what she says. Arthur, can I talk to Ada… alone. » Arthur left the room, leaving Ada and Tommy alone in his office. 

« What’s wrong, Tommy? I’ve always been able to tell. »  
« I was in a field, like I told you that Alfie had told me about. Then, when I thought there would be a bang, there instead was a click. The gun misfired, didn’t have any fucking bullets. »

« Yes, I know you didn’t have any bullets because I was the one who took them out. Before the rally, I knew if something went wrong there, you might pull something like this. So, I emptied it. We need you, Tommy. Michael will take us all if we don’t have you here with your brains and devilment. »  
« Ada, I need to take some calls, that’ll be all. Ada you stay here, at the house. Arthur is already, we need to stay together. I’ve called for men to come and protect the house. You’ll be okay, Ada »  
« And you, Tommy? »   
« That’ll be all, Ada. » After an audible sigh, Ada left the room, setting herself in a bedroom upstairs. 

He nearly made it to the end. But now Tommy realised he was too far along the road to stop now. He needed to bring Michael down. The bastard needed stopping before Tommy ended up as Mr Jones.


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

Tommy sat in his office for many hours, calling people for soldiers and protection, filling out paperwork, working on new policies and safety for his institutes. He picked up the phone and asked for Michael Gray.   
« Michael? » Tommy asked.   
« Have you changed your mind, Tommy? »   
« Is Finn with you? »   
« Yes, Tommy. Your brother has turned against you. I hear you have Ada and Arthur in the house. »  
« I’m not losing another sibling. »  
« Oh like you lost John. That was your fault wasn’t it, Tommy. Your plan didn’t work. »  
« If you’re seeking war. No children. »  
« No police. » There was a silent agreement. « You have yourself a vendetta, Thomas. » Tommy hung up the phone, and called Polly.

« Thomas? » Polly asked.   
« Pol? »   
« I don’t want to see you two hurt each other, but he is my son. I will always look after him. »   
« I just spoke to him. We agreed No children; no police. »   
« No children, Thomas? You’ve got none left to lose. »  
« Adn Michael is one himself, but I have no doubt he will put up a fair fight. So will I. »   
« One if you will die. I cannot tell who. » Tommy hung up the phone and called for a maid.   
« Yes, sir? » Francis asked him as she walked into his office.   
« Can you ask the chef to make dinner for two, Francis. My sister and brother are staying. Prepare a room each for them. »  
« How long will they be staying for, sir? »  
« For the foreseeable future, Francis. » 

Francis left the room, leaving Tommy on his own. He retrieved his gun from his holster and opened his drawer which held bullets in. He picked the bullets up and put them in the gun, clicking the chamber into place. Tommy then put his gun back in the holster, knowing he may need to use it, whether on Michael, Finn, Polly, or himself. Next Tommy called Finn. What he was going to say Tommy had no idea.   
« Finn? » Tommy said.   
« Tommy? Tom I’m sorry but-. »  
« Finn. Who’s side are you on? »   
« I don’t know, Tommy. I don’t know what to do. Michael is threatening me. »  
« I’ll decide for you. You’ll work for him, gather information, dates, times, plans. Bring them back to me. »  
« Like an informant? »   
« Exactly, Finn. And you don’t tell a soul. Not even Arthur or Ada. You understand? »  
« Yes, Tommy. »


	30. Chapter Thirty

« Sir, the chef has asked what your sister and brother would like for breakfast tomorrow, » maid Francis explained.   
« Francis I’ve told you three times. They will have what is put in front of them. Ada likes jam on bread, Arthur likes full English and I won’t have anything. »  
« Okay. And I’m sorry to ask, but the chef asked if you could go down there and show him how you’d like it done. » Tommy knew at that moment why.   
« How long have we had this chef? »   
« I’m not sure, Mr Shelby. Not long. »  
« Hmm. You go and tell him that I need to fill out some paperwork and then I will come down and show him exactly how Arthur would like it done. »

Tommy made sure his gun had bullets in, stood up and made his way to the kitchen.   
« Are you the head chef? » Tommy asked.   
« Yes, Mr Shelby, » he replied. After spending a moment in silence, Tommy pulled his gun out of the holster and held it up to the chef’s head.   
« Michael thinks he can come down to my home and get me killed like that. I’m afraid he’s going to have to try harder than that. » The chef caught Tommy at an off moment as he pulled a Lewis gun to Tommy’s chest, which before was hidden behind him. In the moments after he shot him, Tommy cocked his own gun and shot the chef between the eyes. 

Touching his chest to see that blood was there, pouring out like whiskey out a jug. « Ah, fuck! » he shouted as he bashed his hands on the table. Francis came in to see what the gunshots and shouting was for. 

« Mr Shelby are you okay? » she asked.   
« Go get Ada and Arthur, Francis. Bring them into my office. »  
« It’s nearly one in the morning, sir. I’m certain they’ll be asleep. »   
« Then wake them up. Just get them in my office now. »   
« Yes sir. » Francis left the room, leaving Tommy on his own. What Tommy really wanted was for the chef to have shot him in the head, but unfortunately, he was used to this. He would survive without a doubt about it. The hole in his suit jacket became redder and redder as blood dropped on the ground. Tommy struggled to his office, where Ada and Arthur were nervously waiting for him. 

« Tommy we heard gunshots; what happened? » Ada asked worried.   
« Michael has already sent people. The ’chef ‘ wanted me alone so he could kill me. Michael wasn’t smart enough because I shot him in the ‘ead. »  
« There were two bullets, brother, » Arthur noticed. « Are you okay, Tom? »   
« I’m fine, Arthur. You can go back to bed, both of you. I need to make some calls. Be careful. » Arthur and Ada left the room, taking themselves back to bed. 

Tommy took the bullet out of him himself. It took him awhile to do so, taking the other end of two spoons to rip it out of his peck. He put his flat cap in his mouth to stop him from shouting. He didn’t want to worry anyone. He dug it out, and drank plenty of whiskey after the fact to stop the pain. He bandaged himself, then put his suit back on tight so you couldn’t see he was injured. He was exhausted, in a lot of pain, and nauseous from the blood loss. Nevertheless, he called Finn.   
« Finn, is it you? » Tommy asked.   
« Yeah, Tom. What’s going on? »  
« If Michael says anything about tonight, you call me straight away. You understand me? »   
« What happened tonight, Tom? »   
« It doesn’t concern you, Finn. Just tell me if you hear anything. » Tommy hung up the phone without uttering another word. He then called Michael, who reluctantly answered.   
« Yes, » Michael sighed.   
« I’m alive, Michael. You’re going to have to try harder than that. And your chef, he’s at the bottom of the canal right about now. »   
« I’ll just call the police. »  
« And tell them I killed the man who you sent to kill me? The man who shot me? I don’t think so, Michael. Also, no police. We agreed. »   
« Yes. We did, Thomas. We will kill you, Mr Jones. »  
« Good luck with that, Michael. It seems the whole fucking world wants to keep me alive. » Michael hung up the phone, and hesitantly, Tommy called Polly, who he knew would be awake at this hour. 

« Thomas. Michael told me not to call you, » Polly explained.   
« Pol. You tell Michael to train his men to shoot at the head, not at the chest. »  
« I heard what happened. Are you okay, Thomas? »  
« No Pol. It’s only now I realise how you’ve kept me alive these years. And now what I want more than anything is to just die, for all the pain to stop, but the fucking world seems to want me alive. »  
« See a doctor, Thomas. The one you saw in Edinburgh would do. »  
« Just- just tell Michael to train them to shoot in the ‘ead. » Tommy hung up the phone and sat with his head bowed, listening to his heart beating slowly against his chest. His arms reached out to the end of the desk, and he sat there, thinking, for many minutes, cannot be certain how many. His silence was interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing. 

« Tommy? » Michael asked.   
« Michael? » Tommy replied.   
« I spoke to Polly. You’ve managed to save yourself from death. It seems you want to die. I don’t want you to be happy. I’ll take your brother and your sister. Then I’ll take your house and businesses and institutes. According to my mother, that’s what will hurt you most. Unfortunately for you, that won’t come without a little pain, as you have already seen. So, no. My men will be trained to shoot wherever it hurts but doesn’t kill. »  
« Is that all you have to say, Michael? »   
« Oh. One last thing. I spoke to the adoptive parents of your daughter, Ruby. She was ever so happy with them. She was called Elizabeth. »  
« Was? »   
« Oh yes. Forgot to mention. I had my men pay her a visit. She’s not Elizabeth any more. » Tommy hung up the phone instantly. 

Thomas took himself up to his bedroom, where he forced his eyes closed, but could not sleep. When he slept, he saw Grace’s face. She was horrified that Tommy didn’t save his daughter. Tommy was scared. Scared of her, scared of Michael, scared of himself. Finally, the sun came up and the dark night became a bright morning. 

A couple of the sous chefs had prepared breakfast for Arthur and Ada, who tried to offer Tommy some, but he refused, taking himself into his office while they ate. He called Alfie Solomons.   
“Hello Tommy,” Alfie called across the lines.   
“Good afternoon, Alfie.”  
“I heard you’ve had a bit of an issue within your family.”  
“Yes, Alfie. It is that I called you about.”  
“I hear you’re not dead yet.”  
“Not quite.”  
“Shame isn’t it. Myself, I love being dead. My Margate is a wonderful place to sit and eat and shoot at seagulls and-.”  
“Alfie I need men.”  
“How many?”  
“As many as you can get.”  
“How much.”  
“However much is sufficient. I wasn’t planning on hurting Michael, but then he hurt my baby. That bastard needs to die.”  
“A lot of people could say the same thing about you, Tommy.”  
“Not a lot of people are like me, Alfie.” There was a moment’s silence. “Are you on board.”  
“Of course, Tommy. Where do you want them?”   
“Birmingham. Bring them to Charlie’s Yard tomorrow.”   
“Alright Tommy!” Alfie hung up the phone and Tommy reverted to his previous sitting position. He sat and thought for twenty minutes, then walked out the house and climbed into his car. He drove to where the Lee family was stationed, and asked to speak to the old woman. He climbed into her wagon, and sat in front of her. 

“You look tired,” she began.   
“Something’s happened. I need as many men as you can gather.”  
“Have you been sleeping, Thomas?”  
“I need them by tomorrow. Bring them to Charlie’s yard.” Tommy left the wagon and left where the Lees were camped, driving to his office in Small Heath. Jessie Eden, Communist agitator, socialist, and the highest paid woman in the factories under Tommy’s power, was already waiting to see him. 

“Hello, Mr Shelby, I appear to have struck you at an inconvenient time,” she began.   
“Why are you here, Jessie Eden?” Tommy asked.   
“You very suddenly appeared to have stranded yourself from not only Oswald Mosley and fascism, but socialism altogether. You haven’t appeared in any parliament meeting since the deaths at the fascist rally, and you have hardly left Birmingham.”  
“Is that purely why you can all this way. Because I haven’t done anything.”

“I hear you have troubles. With your cousin. I can help. You don’t agree with communism but we can make a deal. You discuss equal pay for females in the next House of Commons meeting, and I can get you a lot of men.”  
“I am meeting all my men tomorrow at Charlie Strong's Yard. You bring your men then, and I will bring up equal pay for female workers.”

“See you tomorrow, Mr Shelby.”  
“See yourself out, please.” She did, and Tommy made some calls, called in a few more favours for men. Soldiers. As many as he could find. Instead of there being many battles in this war, Tommy wanted it over and done with, one battle to make it stop. And now word was getting out of this battle, Tommy was glad. Which is why the next person he called was Michael.   
“Michael, it’s Tommy,” he began.   
“Yes, Thomas.”  
“Instead of continuous fighting, like with the Changreta’s, I’ve gathered men.”  
“How many?”   
“That doesn’t concern you. Small Heath; Garrison Lane. Where it all began. We fight there. One of us must die. Whoever wins gets the company and businesses. Tomorrow afternoon.”  
“You have a battle.” Tommy hung up the phone, before creating a plan for the next morning.


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

“Right. We are here today because our generation has worked hard to build a legitimate business, whether Shelby Company Limited, Lee Family, or even the Jews, fighting for their rights. I find it unacceptable for a bunch of kids who did not fight for their country to come and take our thrones from under us. I refuse to be confined. We will win this war. Michael does not know how many men we have. This battle is going to make the Somme look like a fucking tea party. All he knows is that this afternoon, three o’clock, we will settle this battle once and for all,” Tommy explained as he stared across the likely hundreds of men standing in front of him, all armed with guns. Without further words, Tommy began to walk towards Garrison Lane, where he gathered his men ready for battle. Tommy, Ada and Arthur led the men, the rest of them stood close behind. As they walked along the lane, in front of him stood Michael, Polly, Finn, and Gina. Behind them around 100 men. Tommy looked down at his pocket watch, three minutes to three. 

“Good afternoon, Mr Jones,” Michael began.   
Tommy was ready for a war, a real battle; images ran through his mind of France, on the front line. Tommy blinked, as he always did now when he saw it. He saw Michael as the man who attacked him, which gave him even   
more motivation to kill him. 

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Michael,” Tommy exclaimed, last hope of saving many lives, on both sides. “When the ‘older generation’ was fighting for our country, fighting for your freedom, we learnt to save as many lives as we could. Our generation. We don’t have to fight, Michael. My men and your … children, don’t deserve it. We can fight and die, or settle this peacefully.” Tommy didn’t want Michael dead enough to lose the lives of innocent men. 

“Fair enough; why should all you men die? It should just be them who caused it!” Michael shouted as he lifted his gun and shot Tommy in the left shoulder. Lifting his fingers to it, brushing over his coat, he lowered it back down to see blood. Lots of it. Uneducated Michael was unaware that one bullet to the shoulder may not kill you, so was shocked when Tommy shot him in the head, between the eyes. The gun Michael shot Tommy with was powerful, the new advancements in technology meaning bullets became more detrimental. Michael fell to the floor backwards, and Polly and Gina supported his head on the ground, but he was dead. He would never move again. Tommy had yet another life on his red hands. 

And then it hit him. Tommy had just killed his cousin. Michael Gray, Tommy’s assistant for years, and so much more. His cousin. His own cousin. Tommy had killed 100 men before. A boy, really, just beginning to see the world. He squatted down, his left hand leaning on his left thigh, right hand holding the gun in front of him. “Ah fuck,” he exclaimed as he continued to intake what he had just done. He thought about it. 

Tommy thought about pulling the gun on himself, and as soon as he thought it, it was a reality. The gun was now against the right of his head as he crouched.   
“Tommy…” Ada asked as she edged towards him. “Tommy put the gun down.” Polly and Gina watched as Tommy had to be restrained by Ada and Arthur.  
“Tom, let’s go inside. Get a drink in the Garrison. Talk,” Arthur begged from him. Tommy lifted himself up and caught a moment’s eye contact with Polly, who gave him a dirty look. After all, he had just killed her son.


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

Tommy was sitting in his office in Small Heath, aching with pain. Not only from the bullet, but his head hurt so much that his heart did too. He was so broken that his body began to break too. Ada entered.   
“Tommy?” Ada asked, wanting an answer. Tommy didn’t give her one. “Tommy we’re worried about you. You’re not okay, Tom.”  
“I’m okay.” Tommy spoke with no emotion or meaning.   
“You’re not yourself now. And we’ll talk about what happened out there. You’re not yourself.”  
“I know what this is. It’s just myself talking to myself about myself.”   
“What happened out there, Tommy?”   
“He’s just a boy, Ada. He didn’t need to die. Just a boy.”  
“He killed your daughter, Tommy. She was just a girl, a young one.” There was a moment of silence where Ada wanted an answer. “Tommy, are you bleeding?” Ada asked, noticing the red hole in his coat.   
“No?” Tommy knew he was; it was burning through him like hot coals.   
“Yes, Tommy, you are. Did one of the boys not get it out.” Tommy looked at the floor, before Ada continued, “You’re bleeding a lot. Common let’s get something to stop it.”

Because of the lack of blood in him, as Tommy stood up, he had a lack of oxygen which went to his feet, and he fainted to the floor. Unfortunately, he hit his head as he went down, and there now was blood coming from the right side of his head, and it was coming in plenty. “Ah, fuck,” Tommy sighed as he woke up. “Fuck that hurts. Ada get someone. Please. Quick.” Tommy knew why it hurt so much, and he next woke up with Arthur and Ada trying to sit him on a chair. He wasn’t sure when Arthur had entered, but he was there now. 

“It’s there.” Tommy pointed to the area of his head in which the blood was pouring from. Arthur called for an ambulance, while Ada retrieved her handkerchief from her pocket and put pressure on Tommy’s head. “Ada it’s where it was before. It’s there.”  
“What do you mean, Tommy?”  
“The Changreta’s. John. Hospital.” Tommy kept his words to a minimum because he was losing his breath. Weaker and weaker.   
“Fuck, Tommy.”   
“The permanent stitches must’ve come out or something.” Thomas was starting to mumble his words.   
“You’ll be okay, Tom. The ambulance is on its way, » Arthur explained, worried.   
« In the bleak midwinter,” Tommy replied.   
“No, Tommy. We need you. We can live in the house as long as you want and we will do whatever you need. We need to bring you back, Tommy,” Ada worried. 

The doctors came up to Tommy’s office to see Tommy hunched with his back against the front of the desk, his head bowed. Ada and Arthur sat next to him, each holding his hand.   
“What’s happened?” asked the doctor.   
“He got shot, then didn’t stop the blood flow. He fainted and hit his head,” Ada explained.   
“That’s à lot of blood from the head for just a bump.” Ada and Arthur exchanged a worried look.   
Arthur explained, “Tommy was attacked. He nearly died. He cracked his skull. Just where he hit it today.”  
“I see. That explains the excessive blood loss. We’ll get him to a hospital and sort him out.” Tommy awoke from his unconsciousness.   
“No. I um, I can’t go to the hospital,” Tommy explained.   
Ada interrupted, confused, “Tommy you need to, you’re ill.”   
“You didn’t see the look Polly gave me. If I go to a hospital she’ll just come for me. I'm not going,” Tommy insisted. 

“It’s not worth fighting him doctor, if he says he won’t go, he won’t go,” Ada explained.   
“Fine, then,” the doctor agreed after hesitation. “I guess we can do what we can from here. Mr Shelby, can you sit up for me.” It was a struggle, but Tommy did as he was asked. The doctors walked over and started to do what they could to save him. One of them got the bullet out of him, and bandaged it up. One supported his head and stopped most of the blood flow.   
“Ada bring me the phone,” Tommy asked. Ada did as she was asked, and carried the phone to him. He dialled for Finn. 

“Finn, it’s- it’s Tommy.”  
“Are you okay Tommy? You were acting really weird out-.”  
“Finn listen. I need you to- I need you to speak to Polly. Get word to her that I- I hit me ‘ead.”   
“You okay, Tommy?”   
“I’m fine. Just- just talk to Polly.” Tommy hung up the phone and called Alfie.   
“Hello Tommy,” Alfie called along the phone. “How was your little gang fight?”   
“Alfie, your men are on their way back. No casualties. Michael is dead.” His own words hurt him more than his wounds. Michael was right, the wounds and scars are on the inside. Maybe Michael was right. Maybe Michael should’ve taken over the company. 

After the doctors had left Tommy, Ada, and Arthur on their own, Tom lifted himself to his feet, and looked straight to Ada and Arthur.   
“Ada. Go see Polly. Arthur, go back to the house. Get some whiskey in you.”   
“Look after yourself, brother. We need you,” Arthur explained. Arthur and Ada leaving Tommy with himself. He sighed as he caught a reflection of himself. 

« Common, Tom. Think, » he said to himself. Hesitantly, he picked up the phone and called Polly.   
« Thomas? » Polly asked.   
« Yes, » Tommy struggles through his words.   
« You killed my son. »  
« I did. »  
« I’m not going to kill you, Thomas. I’ll leave that up to you. Right about now you’re thinking about how you killed a boy. A child. You’ll live with that, however long you let yourself live. You’ll get the shakes, when your blood cools down. Think about that, Thomas. Finn told me you had an accident. Hit your ‘ead. You’re right not to go to an ‘ospital, Thomas. You wouldn’t leave. » There was a moment’s silence. « What are you going to do with me, Thomas. Gina isn’t going to let this go. She’s got men coming from America for you. Can’t be dealing with another mafia, Thomas, can you? What you going to do with me? »  
« I will do what I have to do to who I have to,” Tommy explained, demising everything else she had said. But those words remained ingrained deep in his head nonetheless.   
“Kill kill kill, Thomas. »  
« It’s the only way to make people listen. » Tommy hung up the phone and dragged himself to Charlie’s Yard, where he climbed on his black horse, the one for when he was depressed, so the town knew to steer clear.   
« What happened to you, Tom. You look a wreck! » Charlie exclaimed as Tommy climbed onto the horse. He walked the horse through the streets and out of Small Heath. 

Tommy made his way to the fields, where he gathered wood and lit a fire with his lighter. As he stared into the flames reaching into the sky, he thought. He thought long and hard ranging from the events in France to Michael. His hands shook as his blood cooled down, just as Polly said they would. She knew him; his strengths and weaknesses, so she would know just how to bring him down. As Tommy shook, his mind flicked through images and feeling of bullets flying through him, bullets firing from him. He saw not colour, but a wide range from black to white, with every shade of grey in between. He sat for hours, endless moments of red hands reaching to the sun. 

As he stared into the grey, and looked up towards the fields in front of him, he saw his beautiful Greta, the girl he loved, still loved.   
“Greta?” Tommy asked. “What do I do, Greta?”  
“I know you more than anyone in the world, Tommy. You hurt most when you stop, which is how you made your way up in the world. You can’t stop, because when you stop, you think and you dream. You think about France, and me, Grace, and Lizzie. You think about the kids, you think about the tunnels, and now you will think about Michael. The only thing you can do, Tommy, is not stop. You can’t. Ada and Arthur, they need you. And you need them. Look after them, and let them look after you.”  
“I’ll try, for you,” Tommy replied, looking at his girl. “I told you I’d change the world.”

Tommy stood up and climbed onto the black horse, riding him back through the countryside, through the streets of Birmingham, though the streets of Small Heath, to Charlie’s Yard, where he dropped off the horse. The sun had set and risen since he had last visited Charlie Strong yesterday.   
“Where have you been, Tommy, all night you were out. Haven’t done that since Grace. On the black horse, as well. So the farmers can’t see you in their fields at night. Talk to me, Thomas. We’re all here for you.” Despite Greta’s orders, Tommy simply left Charlie unanswered, walking through Watery Lane Garrison Lane to the Garrison, where Harry was serving.   
“You alright, Shelby? No one’s seen you all night, they were looking for you. You look so pale,” Harry began in his thick Brummie accent.   
“I uh- had an accident with the fight yesterday, took a bullet. Another, hit me ‘ead; was in the fields all night.”  
“You better see Arthur and Ada. They were up all night searching. Charlie said you picked up the black ‘orse then he didn’t see you after. They’ve turned Birmingham upside down, Tommy. Put their minds at ease.”  
“Where are they?”   
“Betting shop, I think, Tommy.”

As Thomas walked into his office in the betting shop, about to call Ada, to assure her, he was surprised to see that her and Arthur were already there.   
“Tommy!” Ada shouted, running over to him. “Where on Earth have you been? We checked your offices, we had men in London check you weren’t in the House of Commons; we checked the Garrison every hour, Charlie’s Yard, your house, the shop, couldn’t find you anywhere. Where have you been?”  
“I was… thinking,” Tommy thought about whether to tell them. “I saw Greta, in the fire. She talked to me.”  
“Tommy, what do you mean,” Arthur asked.   
“We talked about Michael, about Lizzie and Grace and-”  
“Tommy where were you?”  
“In the fields.”  
“Are you an idiot? Polly can pick you out like a barge in a fucking pond, Tom,” Arthur exclaimed. Tommy said nothing, but his silence said a thousand words.   
“Common, Tom,” Ada continued. “Let’s go back to the house. We’ll have some tea and talk about it.” 

The siblings returned home to paradise, sitting in Thomas’ office, Tommy, Ada, and Arthur, sat in silence for many minutes, until Arthur began, “Tom, brother. I think Polly is going to become a big issue. And questions are beginning to arise concerning why you are not with Oswald Mosley currently.”  
“I have a plan, and it is risky,” Tommy replied.  
“Ah fuck. When you have plans, you get hurt,” Ada explained.  
“When I do a good thing, innocent people get hurt. Look at Barney and Johnny. This time, it may work.”  
“What’s your plan, Thomas.”  
“Finn decided, well, I forced him to, be a double agent of Michael and I. I’d say he’s suffered enough, but I don’t think he has. I say we blackmail him. Make him kill Oswald Mosley. I have a plan, and he will not get caught. We will then deal with him in whatever way we see fit. He is our brother, but he turned his back on us. When Mosley is pronounced dead, I will take over as leader of the party, and bring it down.”  
“And if it doesn’t work, we’ll be down another brother.”  
“Yes, it may come with sacrifices, as it already has done… Now I have promised Jessie Eden I would speak in the House of Commons, and there is a meeting in just enough time for me to arrive. You can stay here, have anything you want; what I just said does not leave any of our mouths; not to Linda, not to Karl. none of the maids or fucking cooks. If there are any calls, direct them to my office in the House. »


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

“Members of the house, I believe my comrades, leaders of the party, and indeed, leaders of the country, have been foolish to reject the idea that women are more useful and valuable than we take credit for. Indeed they did not see the horrors of war, however they were not given the option to do so. Given the opportunity, many of our wives and daughters indeed would have, their strength surpassing a lot of ours’. The reason I speak to you about this today is because the thought of giving women the same pay for the same job has for years startled many, the idea of females becoming equal to us. However, with the advancement of society, the improvements meaning women are now becoming more demanding of this. I speak to you today, with the idea of a start, the possibility of change. A fragment of hope means that one day, perhaps many days or years from now, women too may sit in these meetings. Thank you.” Thomas’ speech echoed across the House of Commons, being heard by every man his voice could reach to. 

Back in his office, he spoke to Maggie at the phone exchange, who explained he had had a call at the house from Polly. He reluctantly called her back, and after a few rings, she answered. “Polly, it’s Tommy. Maggie said you called.”  
“Yes, I did. I was going to ask how you were. Ada called and asked if I’d spoken to you. You went missing, all night. Your maid told me she overheard you talking to your siblings. She said you were talking about Michael. She said you are guilty. That you saw Greta. I remember Greta. She killed herself becaHow about Grace, so did she. And Lizzie died because of you, too. How does that feel, Thomas? The person you love dying too early. You killed my boy, and you will pay. » Polly knew how to hurt him most.  
“What else did the maid say?”  
“She says when Ada and Arthur aren’t there, she can hear you crying, sometimes she sees you holding a loaded gun. She cannot remember the last time you slept, or even went to your bedroom. She says you don’t eat, and when you do you throw it back up. It doesn’t help me if you kill yourself, Thomas. I want to kill you myself.” Tommy hung up the phone, unable to let himself feel the pleasure of thinking of his death. 

He then called Finn, who picked up instantly. “Finn,” Tommy said as soon as his brother picked up the phone.   
“Tommy? I’ve been trying to call you for hours-”  
“Finn, meet me in my Small Heath office.”  
“When?”   
“When I get back from London.” Tommy hung up the phone without further words about it. He was angry at Finn; he was angry at Polly; but most of all, he was angry at the world, angry at himself. 

He drove back home to meet Finn. as he walked back into his office in Small Heath, Finn was already in there waiting for him. “Finn, I need to talk to you about Oswald Mosley. You turned your back on this family, Finn. You’re going to pay for it”  
“Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”  
“You’re going to kill Oswald Mosley.”  
“The MP? The one Barney nearly killed.”  
“Yes.” Tommy passed Finn the paper, which had the date, time, and plan of the assassination. “This time, you won’t tell anyone. Hey! No one. You understand. You know what we do. I let you off because you’re me brother. It won’t happen again.”

Finn left the room, leaving Thomas at his desk. His head ached almost as much as his heart. Frustrated at himself and the world, he banged his head off the desk angrily, groaning as he did so. It hurt a lot, agonising, but Tommy felt he deserved the pain. He did, however, open the wound on the side of his head, making it begin to bleed. « Fuck, » he whispered, picking up the phone and dialling for Ada.   
« Tommy? » Ada asked.   
« Yes, Ada. Have you spoken to Polly? » He struggled with his words because now his blood was getting less, and loss of blood getting more.   
« Yes Tom. I was just about to call and ask if you were coming home. Francis was asking if you were staying for dinner. »  
« I’m coming home, but tell Francis I am busy and not hungry. »  
« Tommy you need to eat. I haven’t seen you eat anything in days. Last time I saw you eat, I could hear you in the bathroom being sick just minutes later. Come home, Thomas. Have a meal. Put our minds at rest. » Tommy thought about what Greta had said, how Ada and Arthur were trying to look after him, how he should let them.   
« Okay, Ada. I’ll come home and do what you have asked. »  
« Thank you, Tommy. » Thomas hung up the phone. He didn’t want to go home yet, but it was his time. He packed up his things in the office, putting his plans for the weeks in the locked drawer. 

Tommy looked at the plate of food in front of him, and his sister and brother on the table with him, who were tucking in to their meals, while Tommy hadn’t touched his. “Tom, at least try,” Ada pleaded.  
“I can’t, Ada. there’s not enough time,” Tommy replied.   
“Tom, you’ll have no time if you don’t eat,” Arthur explained. “Have some toast, Tommy. It’s a start, at least.” Tommy thought about Greta, what she said, and picked up a piece of toast. The brittle taste against his dry lips and tongue was unusual. He didn’t like it, but his intention wasn’t to like it, more to please his siblings. It dried his throat more than it already was, and as he ate, his siblings watched him like a watched pot. It tasted sweet yet salty; Tommy tasted flavours he hadn’t in a long time. While he ate, he was making the decision whether he was going to throw it back up later, after he became alone.   
“Tommy. It’s good to see you eating,” Ada explained. Tommy had stopped eating for a couple of minutes now. After having a sip of the water that was in front of him, to help digest the toast, Thomas picked himself up from his seat, and took himself to his office. He sat at his desk, looking over to his telephone. As he did so, he sighed with pain, hoping the phone would ring before he had to call it himself. Unfortunately, it didn’t ring, so he couldn’t answer; he had to call her himself. He picked up the phone and dialled for Aunt Polly.   
“Polly?” Tommy asked.  
“Yes, Thomas.”   
“I thought about it, Pol. you’re right. It’s easier if you kill me. Not only would it be easier for you, but also for Ada and Arthur. They couldn’t live knowing I had killed myself. So go ahead, kill me. I’ll even arrange the time and place for the killing for you. You can avenge the death of your son, and kill me in any way you see fit. The sooner the better.”  
“I’m not going to kill you, Thomas. I know it’ll hurt you more if I let you live. The little voice in your head telling you, reminding you that you killed a boy, my son. You’ll live with that. You won’t kill yourself because Greta told you not to. You-”  
“How do you know about Greta?”   
“I know you, Thomas. All those times you’ve struggled, was another time I got to know you better. All the times I heard you in your bedroom talking to her. I know you, Polly.” 

Tommy hung up the phone, unable to tell what he was feeling, all the emotions becoming merged into one. Just as he was ready to smash a glass across the room, having picked up the whiskey bottle, Ada walked into the room, Arthur following close behind.   
“Tommy, Maggie at the phone exchange said Polly called,” Ada began. “She told me what Polly said. Tommy, we thought you were done with all that, we thought you were getting better. » Tom didn’t utter a word.


	34. Chapter Thirty Four

Ada, Arthur and Tommy sat in his office, in silence for a long time.   
« We’re going to have to be clever, » Tommy explained, his head bowed.   
« How are you, brother? » asked Arthur, worried for his brother’s safety and well-being.   
« Polly knows this family and the company inside out. Gina has contacts in America.   
Her family also are smart, and will not hesitate to take action, » Tommy continued, ignorant of his sibling’s words.   
« Tommy, we're worried about you, » Ada continued. 

“Polly and Gina will do whatever they can to bring us down; they will do whatever it takes to kill all of us,” Tommy explained. “We need a plan to bring them down. I have sent some paperwork over to Polly to officially remove her from Shelby Company Limited. I will make some overseas calls to America, seeing who is on who’s side, considering our relationship with the shipment of gin and whiskey. If they are with Gina, which is likely, they will most probably pull shipment licenses, which means less money for the company. As the narcotics business in America is beginning to grow, Polly and Gina will want to continue what Michael started in partnership with them.”

Ada interrupted, “Tommy, none of this can happen if you blow your own brains out.”  
“Dead or alive I’m a threat to you two. Polly doesn’t want you dead, but she knows killing you will hurt me more,”  
“What’s your plan then, Tommy,” asked Ada. 

“When the Changreta’s came for us, they had to think I was dead. They had to be convinced I was dead so we could take them down. Polly knows me; she knows how much I want to die. She wouldn’t hesitate to believe you if you said I finally had. They’d be supportive of you; you could invite them to the house, if you want. They’d come. They don’t hate you. When they are at the house, get them alone, both of them, in my office. In the moment, I will kill them. I will not hesitate to do so, as I have no objection to saving my family,” Tommy explained, worried about his plan. « Then, we will deal with the Americans. »

“What happened last time, Tommy. We lost a brother the last time,” Ada explained.   
“Ada, it’s the only chance. The only possibility of saving us from this.”  
Arthur asked, “What are you going to do, Tommy? Where will you go? You go mad when you stop.”  
“I’m already mad, Arthur,” Tommy replied. “I’ll just... do it silently.”  
“Where will you stay?”  
“In the house. I’ll stay in my room. Lock it. The maids, butlers, Polly, Gina, Finn, everyone. They must all think I am dead. You tell Polly whatever it takes to make her believe.” Tommy pulled a small canister out of one of the drawers in his desk. “Bang. Splat. It won’t be a surprise, for anyone. Be sad but not surprised. Do what you have to do to make them believe.”  
“What about Alfie?” Arthur asked.”  
“Him too, brother. To everyone but us, I am dead. To satisfy the maids, I’ll blow a shot from my office. Arthur, you won’t let anyone in. Ada will ‘take me back to be buried’. All out of the view of the maids. I’ll be in my bedroom. You’ll have locked it behind me. Refuse to open it, until the day Polly and Gina come, Finn if he wants to come. Let me out, and I’ll do what I have to do. Have them unarmed at the door, so they can’t attack me. Explain it’s in case feelings run high.”


	35. Chapter Thirty Five

Ada was on the phone to Polly, explaining the situation, “I ran into his office after I heard the gunshot, and he was just lying there. I hardly knew what to do. I thought he was getting better, Polly. I guess he was getting worse.”  
“I knew it was coming someday, Ada. he’d been really struggling. I can’t grieve because of what he did to Michael, but he is your and Arthur’s brother. If you want, we could come up to wherever you’re staying.”  
“That would be nice. Who would come up?”  
“Me, Gina and Finn, I suppose. How’s Arthur holding up?”   
“He’s trying to be strong for me, but I know he finds it hard. You know it was with John. Arthur’s the only of the France comrades left, now. Jeremiah died a while back, and so are the others.”  
“Yeah, I’ll get through to him.”   
“Thank you, Aunt Polly.”  
“It’s okay, Ada. How are you?”   
“I’m okay. I’m just worried about Arthur. He’s the only one left, now. Will Finn be alright?”  
“I’m not sure, Ada. I’ll talk to him.”  
“Thank you Pol.”  
“It’s okay.” Polly hung up the phone. 

Tommy was stuck in his room, pacing up and down the front of his bed, unable to think of anything other than France, the shovels beating against the bed frame. He had bottles of whiskey, and some food Ada insisted he had with him. He hadn’t eaten any of it, the thought of seeing his family again made him feel sick. He groaned, in his head. He couldn’t make loud sounds in case the maids heard him in there. After some time of pacing, Tommy sat on the side of his bed, his head in his hands. He could think of nothing else but the pain crawling through his veins and arteries destroyed him as though the pain was in fact hot tar, covering his body. He drank to stop the pain, but couldn’t drink enough, becoming drunk on the whiskey he had brought in with him. At least now his drunken mind could sleep, which he did. He slept, and in his dream, he saw the trenches, the horrors, but this time, his eyes didn’t open as the Jerry broke through; his eyes didn’t open as he was shot, his eyes didn’t open when he was strangled, or when he jumped in front of the officer. His eyes remained shut the whole time, as Tommy was exhausted, having not slept properly in a long time. He next woke up to the sweet sounds of the birds outside and the sound of Arthur and Ada downstairs. Tommy couldn’t hear what they were saying but could hear that Polly, Gina, and Finn were there too. He could hear their voices in the room beneath him, which Tommy knew to be his office. He was relying on the hope that they were unarmed, hoping that Arthur and Ada had followed his instructions and searched them at the door, because otherwise, this could turn out bloody. 

Tommy awaited Ada’s entrance as he heard the key turn in the lock. « Tommy, they’re downstairs, » she explained. Tommy said nothing, but nodded towards her and put his gun in the holster. Tommy wanted Ada to take no part in what was about to happen, so instructed her to stay where she was. 

He held his hand on the doorknob to his office for a second, as he thought about what he was about to do. He recalled back to when Finn was born, the brothers passing him around in a circle, Polly watching over them because their mother was struggling. Eventually, Tommy brought himself to open the door. As he did, he looked up to see Gina staring straight at him, gun cocked, pointed towards his chest. It went in slow-motion, Tommy could almost see the bullet leaving her gun. As it hit Tommy, he took it as though he hadn’t noticed. Bang. 

« I wasn’t going to kill you, Gina. I wasn’t. » Tommy lifted his gun from under his coat and pulled the trigger on Gina’s head. Bang. He looked over at Polly, who had her gun pointed at his chest too. They made eye contact for a mere few seconds. She looked at him in anger and disgust, while he looked at her in shock. He knew she would do it, but when she did, he stared at her through the water in his eyes. Bang. « Polly? » While Tommy knew she would, he hoped she would not, because it meant he would have to do what he did next. Bang. He couldn’t bare to hit her in the head, but did it anyway. Then Tommy looked towards Finn, who also had a gun pointed at him. Before he had a chance to explain, or at least stop him, before the pain became something of an object in him. Bang. This time, Tommy couldn’t bear the pain, three bullets forced into his torso by his family. He fell to the floor, joining his aunt, brother, and cousin. He remained conscious, but saw a blur or colours in front of him. He heard Finn in horror at what he had just done to his brother, then heard the door to his office opening. 

« My god, Tommy, » Ada exclaimed. She stopped in her shock as she looked over to her other brother, Finn, who was looking at her, scared. Without hesitation, Ada held up her gun to his head. Bang. Tommy pushed his hand out in front of him, the rest of his body scrunched in a ball. « Tommy, what happened? » she asked in confusion and shock.   
« They must’ve known. Arthur check-, » Tommy was in so much pain, he couldn’t finish his sentence.   
« Arthur was ill last night and this morning. No, they weren’t checked. Tommy what do I do? »

« Nothing, Ada. Just- just get Arthur. Get Arthur. » Ada ran out of the room, in search of Arthur. Maids began to knock on the door of the office in concern, but Ada had locked it behind her. Tommy groaned as he could hear Ada pay the maids substantial amounts and promise of more if they left without another word, and didn’t tell anyone. Then, after the maids and servants had left, Ada and Arthur ran into Tommy’s office of blood. Arthur pushed everything on Tommy’s desk to the floor, sweeping it so nothing remained; he then picked Tommy up, with the strength he had been building while fighting in rings, placing Tom on the table. 

Tommy groaned as Arthur pulled the final of the bullets out of him. Tom’s hand shook madly, Ada holding them to make it stop. « Tommy, you did the right thing, » Ada explained. For the first time since France, that his siblings had seen, Tommy cried. He didn’t sob, but it was visible that tears were falling from his eyes. « Arthur get an ambulance, » she continued. Arthur did so, while Ada put pressure on his torso. « Stay with me, Tommy. It’s okay, the ambulance is coming, Tommy. » She was beginning to lose him. His eyes were flickering, but he was smiling. All the time, he wanted death, but was not ready for it. Now his family was safe, he was ready, and he let go…


	36. Chapter Thirty Six

Thomas woke up however long later in the hospital, the broad daylight shining through the windows. Ada was there when his eyes opened, rushing to his side when he did.   
« Tommy you’re okay! The doctors didn’t think you were going to pull through but you did, Tommy! » she explained. Tommy said nothing. « Don’t worry, Arthur’s at the ‘ouse. He cleared everything up, so there’s nothing to worry about when you get home. Because of your… recent struggles, we thought it would be good if we continued to stay at the house with you… I know it’s a lot to think about right now, but we need to sort out the Americans. »  
« Pass me cigarette? » Tommy asked.   
« They’re not allowed, » Ada replied. Tommy looked at her in disbelief she could follow the rules. Hesitantly. Ada picked up a cigarette tin and lighter. She lit a cigar and gave it to Tommy, who smoked it like he hadn’t done in years. His cheeks indented when he breathed in, and a light cloud of smoke drifted out his thin lips when he breathed out. « How is he? Arthur, I mean, » Tommy asked.   
« He’s okay, Tommy. I’ll bring him to see you later. »  
« No, I’m getting out of this place today, » Tommy explained, sitting up in his bed, with a wheeze. « Sat up here like a rag doll, I need to get out. » Ada didn’t say anything. She didn’t argue or try to at least; she knew there was no point. Tommy did what he wanted, at the expense of his own well-being, and he wouldn’t let Ada interfere with that. 

« Get me out of here, Ada, » Tommy begged. His head hurt the most when he wasn’t doing something. It’s how the company got so high up in the world. « I don’t care how, just get me out of ‘ere Ada. '' Ada could see the terror and sadness in his eyes. 

Back at the house, Tommy was sitting at his desk, Ada and Arthur sat in front of him. « Tommy, you haven’t spoken since the hospital. What’s wrong? » Ada asked. Tommy said nothing.   
« Tom. We’re worried about you, » Arthur continued. Thomas was staring at the paperwork on his desk, shaking ever so slightly, rarely blinking.   
“Talk to me, Tommy,” Ada begged from him. Tommy heard her plea.  
“We need to contact Gina’s family,” Tommy began. “And now Finn is… we’ll need to kill Oswald Mosley ourselves.” There was a moment’s silence.   
“Why do you need to kill Mosley, Tommy?” Ada asked. “Since when do you want to improve the world?”  
“Since I entered politics, Ada. Since I realised the world doesn’t give a fuck about us. They’ll never let us become them because of who we fucking are, and where we’re fucking from. Mosley’s death is the only door.”  
“You’re doing it because you think it’s the right thing to do. I can see it in your eyes, Tommy,” Ada explained. Tommy went back to saying nothing. There was silence for a minute as Ada and Arthur exchanged “Look, Tommy. We know you’re not yourself. Write it down. You don’t have to talk to anyone, just write it all down. » Arthur passed Tommy a piece of paper and pen. Then he and Ada left the room, leaving Tommy and some paper. While Tommy had no faith it would work, he tried anyway, for his remaining family. 

_I’d explain my thoughts, but they haven’t invented the fucking words to explain them. No words would ever be enough. I can’t describe losing John, or Polly, Michael, Finn, Greta. Grace, Lizzie, Charlie, Ruby. They all died because of me. My good intentions had me killed. I wake up every morning, awakened from yet another flashback of France. As soon as I wake up, the guilt begins. Usually it’s just the shaking of a hand, sometimes it’s something I can’t even explain. It’s a mix between the past and the future, where the present is non-existent._

_I’ve been to hell and back for this company. I have had, killed, and lost family members, and friends. Nothing was ever going to be the same since France. No man came back the same. I’ve never admitted to having a problem because I pretend to be fine because I have family to look after. My ability to hold it back has been deteriorating. My will for life at all has been also. Since Ruby and Charlie left, my life has been nothing. I don’t feel sad. I sur hear the voices talking to each other about me. Grace comes to me, so does Greta. Greta tells me to hold on to life and change the world like I promised her I would. Grace tells me to join her, and I don’t know who to listen to anymore. I don’t know who to listen to, and with Ada and Arthur begging for me to stay, I don’t know what to do. The pain in my head is becoming too much for me to handle nowadays. It’s something I can’t turn off, something constant and continuous. I can only see one way of making it stop._

_When I was locked in the bedroom when Polly, Gina and Finn were downstairs, I lost myself, another time I find myself somewhere I don’t recognise. I keep finding myself there, and only the January can get me away._

Tommy struggled to read back over it, thinking about so much more he has to say, but can’t because he cannot explain it. Can not explain the feeling he has every moment of every day. It had been a while; Ada and Arthur entered as Tommy looked deeply at the words. « Tommy, you did it, » Arthur scoffed, shocked he had done. Tommy was in a state; pale, shaking. He lost his grip on the paper; it now sat on the desk. Arthur walked over and took hold of it. Tommy was in another mindset, didn’t notice Arthur do this. Arthur and Ada sat down in front of the desk; reading through  
it while Tommy shook in front of them. Over the course of reading the letter, Arthur and Ada’s faces turned from worry to extreme anxiety. They knew Tommy was struggling. They had no idea just how much. The trauma Tommy was going through, unable to talk about it at all. Finally, Tommy ‘woke up’. Time had no influence on him, it could’ve been seconds or hours, he felt as though he had been thinking for days.   
« Tommy? » Ada spoke through tears. « Tommy we had no idea-. » 

« What did I write? » Tommy asked. He was not in his own head when he wrote the letter, didn’t know what he was writing. Ada passed the paper to him. He read what he wrote, realising that now his sister and brother knew at least half of what was going on in his head. Ada and Arthur exchanged a look while Tommy sweated. « I- uh- I- wh- what? » He was gone in his world again.   
« Tommy… It's okay, » Ada began, leaning forward and placing her hand on his, which was shaking ferociously. « Tommy, it’s okay. We’re in the house and your home and me and Arthur are here. » Tommy looked up, having been brought back to the world. « Tommy… I think you need some rest. Let’s take you upstairs. » Tommy didn’t refuse. He didn’t tackle or attack Ad and Arthur when they took him by the arms and led him upstairs to the space bedroom. They read what he wrote about his bedroom; they didn’t want to put him through that. 

Tommy law awake for some hours, watching time pass. He did not sleep, though it appeared the rest he had was good for him. Since he discharged himself, his head was fuzzy, like a cloud of black smog in him. He checked his pocket-watch every few minutes, watched the hours go by, until the early hours of the following morning, when he could no longer stand his own thoughts, and returned down to his office, sat on the chair behind his desk, and began to formulate a plan. He didn’t know quite what he was writing in his typewriter; he was back in another world, back in the world he didn’t quite understand. 

_Plan for the Americans  
I will make contact with American government, talk to a person as high up as I can find. Explain my ideas on what I supposedly believe with Oswald Mosley on the future of Britain, explaining I think the same could be said about the future of America. Hopefully, the power we would have with the American Government would mean that should Gina Gray’s family take action upon us, we would have both the British and American government on our side. Then, we have Mosley killed; I take over the political party, and bring it down, slowly. Americans will follow me without even the knowledge of it. We need to do this with minimal deaths. _

As Tommy finished writing the plan, Ada walked into his office, in her sleepwear, having heard from the maids that Tommy was awake. “Tommy? The maids said you were awake; you’re meant to be resting, Tommy,” Ada began.  
Tommy was still not in his head, but was trying to pretend he was awake. “I uh- the Americans. I was uh- making a plan.” He was slowly bringing himself back to reality. He lost grasp of the paper he had taken out of the typewriter. Ada picked it up, sat down on the chair in front of the desk, and began to read the plan.   
“Tommy, this is incredibly dangerous,” she began, worried. “This doesn’t work, you’ll most certainly hang.”  
“And I will make it known neither you nor Arthur had any involvement.”  
Ada sighed, “Tommy. I understand this is the only plan, the only way out of this mess, but you have to stay safe. It would destroy me if you died and I didn’t with you. I know you’re struggling, Tommy. We’re trying to help you, but you need to help us help you.”

“Ada,” Tommy explained, back in the world, catching eye contact with his sister. She could see the dark circles nesting under his sunken eyes. “I’m fine, Ada.”  
“I was reading in the paper; a thing called survivors guilt. You survived the war; you survived so many times where you should’ve died. All the people you’ve killed; killing affects the heart, Tommy.”  
“Ada, I’m fine.”  
“And Grace and the kids, and Lizzie, and Greta. I can’t imagine what it’s like, Tommy. I can’t imagine what’s going on in your head, but I can help to understand it. You don’t have to go back to Edinburgh, or Margate like Alfie. But just talk to me, Tommy.”  
“Ada…” Tommy was becoming increasingly angry, losing himself, becoming the man he was avoiding; the cold-blooded man that cut people before France and killed men during. 

“We can do something; you could take a break, we could visit Alfie for a while, or-” Tommy lost himself. He became overcome with the man he hated in himself, and could no longer control himself. He stood up from his chair, walked quickly around the desk, grabbing Ada by the arm and pressing her against the wall, pushing her chest against the wall with one hand, his other hand around her neck. “Tommy! Tommy stop!” Tommy wasn’t Tommy anymore; he didn’t know what he was doing. He was pressing hard on her, strangling her. Just as he was about to pull a gun to her head, the door to his office opened, and Arthur ran in, pulling Tommy off Ada.   
“Tommy, what the fuck are you doing?” shouted Arthur into Tommy’s face, inches away from it. Tom didn’t say anything. He was not in it. “Thomas! What are you doing?!” Arthur pinned Tommy against the wall, ushering Ada to leave; she did. Tommy’s eyes were empty, looking far past Arthur. “Tommy, wake the fuck up! Tommy! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Arthur smacking Tom’s face slowly brought him back to the world.   
“Wh- what did I do?”  
“You fucking strangled Ada, Tommy!”  
“Fuck… Is she okay?”  
“Yes, thank God. What’s wrong with you?”  
“I don’t- I…” Tommy was incredibly confused. He lowered himself to the ground so his knees were in front of him, his arms resting on them. “I was at my desk, then… then I’m here.”  
« What do you mean, Tommy? » Tom was now in the mindset of pretending to be fine.   
« Where’s Ada? »  
« I don’t know; I think she went to the dining hall. »  
« Is she angry? »  
« I don’t know, Thomas. »  
« Could you… bring her in? » Arthur sighed and left the room to get Ada. Tommy listed himself up and dragged himself to his desk. He knew he was spending more time as this man nowadays than Tommy. He reached his hands to the end of his desk and hung his head. He could feel a tear drop out of his eye, but refused to admit he had. Both Ada and Arthur walked in, sitting in front of him. 

« Tom? » Arthur asked. « You’re going to have to explain this one, brother. »  
« Tommy? I know it wasn’t you who did that. I could see it in your eyes. Who was it? » Ada asked.   
« Tommy, how can we make this sort of thing stop? » asked Arthur.  
« I don’t know, » Tommy whispered. « I don’t know… Here’s the plan for the Americans.” Tommy pointed to the sheet of paper which detailed the plan. Arthur picked it up and read it. “We’re heading up in the world, Arthur.”   
“None of this can happen if you kill yourself, Tommy.” Thomas was beginning to lose himself again. He felt himself go, and didn’t stop it. He was in a position he thought he would be able to stop himself. “We’re worried about you. Like Ada said, there are things we can do to help; we’ll do what we can and whatever it takes to-.”  
“Stop talking,” Tommy said. He could feel himself slipping away.   
Arthur ignored this command. “Like Ada said, we could spend some time in Margate with Alfie, we could go back to Small Heath and spend some time in the betting shop with the books, or-.”  
“Arthur. Stop talking,” Tommy said, louder and slightly angrier this time.   
“You’re our main priority at the moment; we’re worried about your wellbeing so-.” 

Tommy was not himself at all anymore. He lost himself and began to shout. “Arthur! I’m fucking fine!” Tommy stood up from his chair, retrieving the gun from his holster. Before Arthur had a chance to stop him, he pulled the trigger. Fortunately, his hand was shaking and his vision was blurry, so instead of hitting Arthur, it flew between him and Ada, hitting the wall behind them. The sound of the bullet snapped Tommy back to reality, bringing him back to himself. He dropped the gun in shock, dropping his body onto his desk chair like a rag doll.   
“Fuck,” Arthur said under his breath as Tommy stared at the pen pot stood on his desk. “Tommy this has to stop. We’re scared now.”  
“Tommy… the war’s over,” Ada explained.   
“But the shovels, Ada,” Tommy replied. “They still scrape. The bullets and whistles still sound. And no peace will make it stop.”


	37. Chapter Thirty Seven

“Hello, Alfie,” Tommy said as he sat on the sofa in Margate.   
“Hello, Tommy! What brings you down to Margate on this fine afternoon?”  
“Since I killed Gina Gray-.”  
“The American?”  
“Yes… Since I killed her, there has been looming tension between us and her family. I have used my connections to make contact with the Secretary of State to the President of the United States. and have made it so we have credibility there. That way, when Gina’s family takes action, the American government will take action against them. During that time, Oswald Mosley will finally be assassinated, and I will bring down the party.”   
“And you’re going to do all this with the gray cloud over you?” There was a moment’s silence. “I can sense it, Tommy. I had it myself; it was one of the reasons I came to Margate. You’re in a proper state, says your housemaid. She says you’re so close to death that she’s looking for new work, mate.”  
“How do you know that, Alfie?”   
“I have contacts. I pay your maids to tell me things. There was a situation they told me about. Let me remember… you killed Polly and Gina Gray, and your sister killed Finn Shelby, your… brother?”  
“What’s your point, Alfie?”  
“And, just yesterday, I received a call saying you… oh yes, you almost strangled your sister to death, then nearly shot your brother in the head.”  
“What’s your point, Alfie?”  
“You’re in a worse state than me, Tommy!”  
“What do you do here in… Margate?”  
“Not a lot, Tommy. Oversee some Jewish shit, some rum shit, and shoot at some seagulls. Maybe you could do with a Margate of your own, Tommy.”  
“I don’t need to shoot seagulls, Alfie.” 

Alfie held a cocked gun to Tom’s head.   
“If I killed you, all the pain in your head would stop. I would finish the business you started. Assure your siblings that it was neither me nor you. So, Tommy. The real question is, do you want me to kill you?” Tommy’s lack of speech indicated to Alfie that yes, he did. Three. Two. One. Bang. Tommy fell to the floor, splashes of brain across the room. 

Alfie drove up to Birmingham, Tommy’s body in the passenger seat. Thomas began to groan as his eyes flickered. “Oh, Tommy! Thought you weren’t going to wake up. I’m going to be honest, you must carry some shit in your blazer pocket; took me three of my men to get you in the car!”  
“I don’t understand, you shot me?”  
“I suit you with sheep brains. Enough pressure to knock you out; not enough to kill you.”  
“Why, Alfie?”   
“Two reasons. One, your sister called and asked me to knock some sense into you. Two, I sort of wanted to see if you’d agree to it, to be honest!” Alfie laughed.   
“Where are you driving?”  
“Back to your house.”  
“How much longer?”  
“Couple hours I reckon. What do you want to do until then?”  
“Nothing, just nothing.” While Tommy was grateful for Alfie’s effort, it felt as though it hadn’t worked at all. If Alfie spoke another word, Tommy could kill him. Alfie hadn’t ‘cured’ Tommy. He felt the exact same as when he entered his home. 

“We’re at yours now, Tommy,” exclaimed Alfie. Tommy had been staring into the windscreen in silence since Alfie last spoke. The car juddered to a stop and Tommy climbed out, making his way to his front door. “Your welcome, Tommy,” Alfie exclaimed following close behind. Tommy opened the front door with force and stormed into his office, sitting at the desk which was now piling up with paperwork. In annoyance at being alive, Tommy began to work through the papers, before Ada, Arthur, and Alfie came in and sat down around an hour later.   
“Tommy… Are you okay now?” Arthur asked. Tommy continued with his paperwork as though they weren’t there. “Tommy?” Thomas simply nodded.   
“You need to stop this now, Tommy. War’s over,” Ada explained. “How can we make it stop?”  
“I don’t know, Ada. I don’t know, nothing I’ve done works,” Tommy explained, making no eye contact, finally putting paper down. “It’s like I’m not in myself. Like the man I was in... France; I become him. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”  
“What will work? This can’t keep happening, brother. I need you back. The company needs you back. We’re not going to see this plan through without you,” Arthur begged.  
“I’ve done it, Arthur. I’ve made contact. The plan has begun. Mosley is ready to be killed whenever. We need to figure out who, when, where-” Tommy was interrupted by Alfie.   
“Are you changing the subject on purpose, Tommy?”  
“Of course I am, Alfie,” Tom said, finally making eye contact with him. “Because I have three people in front of me, telling me I’m fucking insane.” The sentence began as a shout, but became something he said under his breath. 

“That’s not what we’re saying, Tommy,” Ada continued, calmly. “We’re just worried about you. You’ve had your share of war; once we get past this hurdle, it will be over. No more wars, no more enemies. Mosley will be dead, fascism will be dead. See how far we’ve come; Michael is no longer an issue and-”  
“And why’s that, Ada? Because I fucking killed him, that’s why,” Tommy shouted.  
Alfie, who had now been watching this happen, joined the action: “Wait, didn’t Michael kill your daughter, turn your aunt and younger brother against you, and try to take over the company?”  
“Yes. Yes he did,” Arthur replied, looking at Tommy. “He deserved to die, he needed to die. He would’ve killed you that day, and possibly hundreds of innocent men also. Men with children to feed and put shoes on the feet of. You did the right thing, Tommy.”  
“What about Finn, eh? Our fucking brother. He didn’t deserve to die,” Tommy replied, breaking eye contact.  
“You didn’t kill him, Tommy. I did,” Ada explained. “And I have to live with that, yes, but killing him saved you, which in turn saves me.”  
“He died because of me, Ada. Polly, Michael, Grace, John, Greta, Charlie, Ruby; they all died because of me. You don’t understand what it’s like to carry that sort of pain, Ada,” Tommy explained. Again, he could feel himself slipping away from himself. He tried to stop himself, and silence seemed the answer. He dropped his head so it was hanging down. 

“No Tommy, I don’t understand that,” Ada explained. “But I can try to at least help you through it.” Thomas was forcing himself to listen to the shovels, drowning out Ada’s words, so whatever mad man was in his head couldn’t hear it. But with the shovels always came the shaking, sweating, flashbacks. It was worth it for Tommy; there could be a day where his attempt on their life would be successful. 

“Greta’s death wasn’t your fault, Tommy,” Arthur explained. “She was struggling; there was nothing you could’ve done. You made her last days worth it.”  
Arthur continued, “John’s death was my fault if anything. I should’ve saved him, Tommy. »  
Alfie noticed Tommy’s shaking hands, and the sweat dripping off him, “What’s wrong with him. He looks like he’s going to fucking explode.”  
Ada addressed Tommy, grasping hold of his hand, “Tommy? Are you okay?” Tom couldn’t hear her, continuing to shake, the shaking now taking over his body. “Tommy wake up, it’s okay.” She lifted his head by the chin; his eyes were closed, and tears were streaming down them. “Tommy, it’s me, it’s Ada. Arthur and Alfie are here.” She began to speak louder. “Tommy we’re home; we’re in your office in your house. It’s okay, it’s okay.” Tommy’s eyes opened and connected with Arthur’s. Arthur knew those eyes; they were Tommy’s eyes from France. The ones from when he had just killed men. The ones from when he attacked Freddie. The ones from when he was injured and ill. The ones he forced himself to leave back in the dirt. The eyes looked deep into Arthur’s while Ada sat him up so that he was leaning back on the chair, head now up straight. 

“Tommy, are you here?” Ada asked. Tommy said nothing, but broke eye contact with Arthur and began to work through the paperwork in front of him. The shaking had mostly stopped, but he still had momentary tremors. “Talk to me, Tommy.”  
“No, Ada. I- I can’t,” Tommy explained through his teeth.  
“What do you mean you can’t?” asked Alfie.   
“Can I speak to my brother?” Tommy requested. After a moment’s silence, he continued, “Alone.” Ada and Alfie left the room, but Tommy could hear them outside.  
“What do I do, Alfie?” he could hear Ada ask.  
He could then hear Alfie explain, “If he was a horse, I’d shoot him. I don’t think there’s very much you can do to stop him… you know. But you can try, and you can make his time until the end the best it can be.” 

“What just happened, Tommy?” asked Arthur.  
“I don’t know, Arthur. I seriously don’t know.”  
“You look like… in France, when you were ill, and you insisted on digging on, I remember seeing your face. I looked into your eyes as you collapsed, and I didn’t see you. It wasn’t you behind there. And that’s what I saw today.”  
“I don’t know what to do, Arthur. Nothing makes sense anymore. It’s like I’m here, and then I’m gone. It makes no fucking sense.”  
“I get it Tommy.”  
“No, you don’t.”  
“I do, Tommy. When we got back from France, it kept happening. I was attacking John and others. I didn’t tell you because I could tell that you were struggling yourself. I started… fighting. In the ring. It helped, really helped, brother. Try it, at least, Tom.”  
“I don’t share your love of fighting, brother.”  
“Then something, Tommy. There must be something that takes your mind off things.”  
“I don’t know, Arthur.”  
« When we got back from France, we brothers were still hands on in the betting shop. I could tell it kept you okay, took it off your mind. Go back to Small Heath. Spend some time in your office there. Do some bookmaking. Bring yourself back. » Tommy said nothing, which was Arthur’s queue to leave, and he did. Tommy got on with the large pile of paperwork in front of him: reading, signing etcetera. He received a phone call, to which he picked up. 

« Mr Shelby? » the man on the end of the line asked.   
« Yes. »  
« I am a representative of the Birmingham Children’s Council. »  
« I don’t have any children. »  
« That’s where you’re mistaken, sir. A while ago, there was an incident in your house. A fire; am I correct? »  
« Yes. »  
« Your wife and son perished in the fire, am I correct? »  
« Yes. »  
« We took your daughter, Ruby away; you were told on the day, weren’t you? »  
« Yes. Then my cousin, Michael Gray, called me not long ago to tell me he had killed my daughter. So why are you calling me today? I have no next of kin. »  
« I don’t know why your cousin told you that he had killed her, Mr Shelby, but she is with us. Now the case has closed on your wife and son’s death, we can give you your daughter back. » Tommy was in utter amazement, he didn’t know what to say. He could bring his girl home to her father. 

In flutters, Tommy replied, « Ye- yes. When can I get her? »  
« You can come pick her up at any time. »  
Tommy hung up the phone and ran to his car, climbing in and starting the car. He drove to the Birmingham institute for the destitute children of the poor, where he ran to the registry desk.   
« Hello, I had a call. Ruby Shelby. I believe she is in your care. »  
« Yes, are you Mr Shelby? »  
“I am. Where is my daughter?” As Tommy spoke, a girl of around six years ran out the door next to the desk, and stood in front of her father. Tommy knelt down in front of her, and held her in his arms, embracing her tight. “I’m never letting you go, Ruby. never.”  
“I’m sorry, dad,” Ruby said through tears.  
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

“Welcome home,” Tommy explained, bringing his daughter into her bedroom. He gave her an embrace, and almost a smile, then took himself to his office, where he sat at his desk and breathed a sigh of relief. He then called Arthur, who was in Small Heath, so was Ada.  
“Are you okay, Tommy? What’s happened?” he asked.  
“Nothing’s wrong; can you come up to the house. It’s Ruby.”  
“Ruby?” Arthur asked, confused. Before he had a chance to ask him, Tommy hung up the phone, and called Ada.   
“Ada? Yes, it’s Tommy. Can you come down to the house? Something’s happened.”  
“Are you okay Tommy?”  
“Yes, I’m fine.” Thomas hung up the phone. If there was a time Tommy had to pull himself out of his head, it was now. He had his daughter back, and that was reason enough. 

“Tommy, what’s wrong? Your maid said to hurry.” Ada asked.  
“It’s Ruby, he said,” Arthur explained to her.  
“She’s back,” Tommy explained.  
“What do you mean she’s back? Michael killed her, didn’t he?” Arthur questioned.  
“That’s what the bastard told us. I’ve got her back, Arthur, Ada. She’s outside, at the stables, riding,” Tommy replied  
“That’s amazing, Tommy, isn’t it?” Ada exclaimed.  
“I don’t know,” Tommy whispered quietly enough that his siblings could only just make out what he was saying.”I don’t think I can look after her properly. I just don’t think I can handle it.”  
“We can help you, Tommy; we can help you and we can help her. It’ll be okay,” Arthur pried.   
“We’ll figure it out, Tom,” Ada reassured.


	38. Chapter Thirty Eight

“Dad, are you okay?” Ruby asked, walking into Tommy’s office as he was sat at his desk as he always did: hands reaching to the sides, head bowed. He shook acutely, his daughter clearly noticing this. Tommy, however, had been in another world for some hours, unaware of her being there. “Dad. Dad?” she repeated in case he hadn’t heard her. Tommy could hear the person in his head telling him what he was going to do next. He gripped the edge of the table, stopping himself; he knew what was happening; he wasn’t about to lose his daughter again. “Dad!”   
“Stop!” Tommy shouted at the top of his lungs. He wanted to stop her before she continued, and before he did something he would regret. “Just, stop talking!” Tommy couldn’t handle the power he had in himself, so took himself out of the room, away from Ruby, and to his bedroom, where he hadn’t been in a while, where he locked himself in.   
“Why? Fucking why?” he shouted to himself. He was so angry at his own head that he was now scared of this side of him; the side that hurt people for no reason. He heard a knock at the door about an hour later; Tommy had been shouting at himself for a long time.  
“Tommy…” she said, calmly. “Open the door… It’s just me, it’s okay.”  
“I can’t, Ada. I can’t.”  
“Tommy, it’s okay. Ruby’s fine. Just… open the door, and we can sort it out.”   
“Seriously, Ada, I can’t. I just, I can’t.”  
“Please, Tommy. We’re worried about you.” The thought of his siblings being worried about him was enough encouragement to open the door. As he did, Ada waited at the door for him to walk out, but he didn’t; instead he sighed and sat down on the side of his bed.   
“Tommy… you’re pale,” Ada explained, sitting down next to him. “As a ghost. What have you been doing, Tommy?”  
“Nothing, Ada.”  
“Tommy…” It took her a second to figure out, but when she dragged the made duvet out of the bed, revealing canisters of cocaine, his opium pipe, and an empty bottle of whiskey. “Tommy, you can’t take all these at once; it’s really dangerous. You know that, mum taught us years ago. You know that.” Tommy’s bowed head showed Ada that yes, Tommy did know that. “You have to stop doing this to yourself. 

“Tommy, you’re hurting yourself. You don’t deserve it, and there’s only so much your body can handle. You’re starving yourself, sleep depriving, and now hurting yourself. Ruby won’t have a father if you carry on like this, Tommy. You have to stop.”  
“I can’t, Ada. I can’t. It stops the pain,”  
“There are other things that stop the pain, Tommy.”  
“Nothing works, Ada. nothing else fucking works.”  
“Tommy, if you don’t stop, they’ll take Ruby away again. And we need Oswald Mosley killed. Do you know who is going to kill him yet?”  
“My commanding officer, in… France. He was never as good as Barney, but had a decent enough shot. I can’t see anyone else able to pull it off.”  
“Have you spoken to him?”  
“No. I was just about to, Ada.”  
“Tommy. I could tell you all day how much you mean to all of us; how broken we would be if you decided to take your own life, but nothing I say will show you how much you deserve to be on this Earth, and how lacking we would be.” Tommy didn’t know how to answer, so he didn’t. He picked himself up and left the room, taking himself to his office, where he dialled the phone number of the Commanding officer.   
“Sir, it’s Sergeant Major Thomas Shelby,” Tommy explained.  
“From the war?” he asked.  
“Yes, sir. There is something I wish to ask of you.”  
“Continue.”  
“In France, when we were playing cards, and I beat you, we didn’t have a forfeit. So, you told me that you owed me a favour.”  
“I remember you having a very good memory and broad intelligence, sergeant major. I have no doubt you remember correctly. What do you ask of me, Shelby?”  
“Yes, sir. Have you heard of MP Oswald Mosley?”  
“I have, Shelby.”  
“I am acting as deputy leader of his party: the British Union of Fascists, sir.”  
“Really, Shelby. I thought better of you.”  
“I don’t believe, sir. I am in contact with the British Government in an operation to bring him down. I have legal permission and obligation to break the law to carry out his removal, sir.”  
“And how does this concern me?”  
“Private Barney, Sniper, tried first, but was killed in the act, sir. Him and you had the best shots I ever saw. I know your life in the service is behind you, and so is mine, but you would likely save thousands of Jewish lives, sir.”  
“I see, Sergeant. And you want me to carry out his assassination?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Then it will be done. I will have it posted the time and place of the killing. You’re doing something good, Mr Shelby”  
“And when I do good things, innocent people get hurt, sir.” Tommy hung up the phone, and as he looked up, Arthur was there. Tommy didn’t know how long Arthur had been there, or how much he had heard about the plan.

“Tommy? Who were you on the phone to?” Arthur asked.   
“Our Commanding officer from France,” Tommy replied.   
“Fuck, what are you talking to him for, eh?”  
“He’s going to kill Oswald Molsey.”  
“Why him?”  
“Good shot, and he… owes me a favour.”  
“Fuck, Tommy. If this goes wrong… He saved us, Tommy. It’ll go down as an assassination of a military officer.”  
“And if something goes wrong, the British government will turn a blind eye because of the contracts I have been given meaning I can break laws to kill this man.” There was a moment’s silence, until Arthur finally left the room with a sigh.


	39. Chapter Thirty Nine

Tommy hadn’t spoken in hours, in his office, Ada and Arthur having come in and out since. He had his hands reaching to the end of the desk, his head bowed, and it had done since Arthur had last left.   
“Tommy…” Ada began. “Tommy what’s happened? One of these times Ruby is going to see you like this. She’s beginning to worry about what's wrong with her dad.”  
Arthur continued, “We can’t keep sitting about all day worried about what you might fucking do to yourself Tom.”  
Ada spoke next, “You have to talk to us. Arthur told me the plan for Mosley, are you thinking about France?”   
Tommy leant up to pick up a cigarette, which he lit and put in his mouth, before finally speaking, “In France, you didn’t plan deaths. You didn’t plan an attack, just followed the orders of those who did. I got used to killing men for no reason. Never got used to killing them with a reason.”  
Ada replied, “Sorry, Tommy, I didn’t-”  
“You know, there was this one time, Arthur and the boys were across the trench from me. There was a man, a private, who had been attacked. He was stabbed, in the shin. It was infected and he was going to die if we didn’t take the leg off. There was no medics available so I had to get another soldier to hold him down as I hacked his leg off with a saw. Despite our efforts, the man died anyway. I wrote to his family personally, sent his picture of them back home. His dying words asked me to. I didn’t even know his name until he told me before he died. I’d never seen him before. I’d never see him again. It’s funny how it works. Isn’t it. I tried to do a good thing. And as a result, not only did he die, but that memory has not left my head since.”  
“Tommy I-”  
“Another time, in the tunnels, the boys weren’t there. Danny and I had to fight off four Prussian soldiers. Outnumbered two to one. One of the men I had to smother, but I had nothing to do it with, so I had to push his head into the dirt until he stopped begging for mercy. His screams were drowned out by the mud and dirt.” 

“I can’t imagine that, Tommy,” Ada explained, shocked. “I honestly had no idea.”  
“In a gas attack once, I couldn’t grasp hold of my mask in the time I should’ve. I shut my eyes, held my breath, and pinched my nose with my left hand, desperately reaching for my mask with the other. For a split moment, I opened my eyes, seeing a man a mere few feet in front of me who had not done what I had. His eyes went completely white and his face an almost green. We caught eye contact just before I put on my mask. I could see the hopelessness in his face, and in that moment, I almost gave my mask to him. I had seen hell out there. Some nights, I wish I had given it to him…”  
“No, Tommy. Don’t let yourself think like that,” Arthur began.  
“You know, Arthur. You don’t realise what’s going on in my head. You got over France a long time ago. My head still can’t seem to forget. Every time I close my fucking eyes, Arthur.”  
Ada continued, “We can do things, Tommy. It’s not like it was before. There are things you can do now. You can’t just not sleep.”  
“And it’s gotten worse recently. Since Mosley. Since I went to see Barney. It’s a reminder. Just then, speaking to the commanding officer, it brought me back. » Tommy realised what he had just said, and continued, shocked at what he just said in this conversation, « Sorry… I didn’t mean to. I just-. » Tommy was interrupted by his daughter, Ruby, opening the door to the office.   
« Oh, Ruby! » Ada exclaimed, picking her up and embracing her. Tommy made no eye contact, instead taking himself to his car, where he drove to Small Heath. He needed familiarity, and the Garrison pub was the place to do so. 

Now Tommy was an MP, he was even more well known, so as he walked through the doors, he had handshakes to make, before he walked up to the bar. It had been a while since Tommy had been in the Garrison. whiskey bottles open at the house, always available for use, although Ada and the maids only let him drink after dark now. « What’re you having’ Mr Shelby? » asked the bartender.   
« Whiskey, » Tommy replied   
« On the ‘ouse. » Tommy placed a coin on the bar anyway.   
« How’s life treating you, Mr Shelby? It’s been awhile since you’ve been up in London. » Tommy said nothing but let out a scoff, gulping the glass of whiskey, feeling it burn down his throat. He retrieved a cigarette from his pocket, and after placing it in the side of his mouth, lit it. He heard footsteps behind him, which then moved next to him. 

“The men over there tell me you are Thomas Shelby. Th say you run this city,” the man began with a strange accent. “Where’s the accent from?”  
“America.” Tommy didn’t say it out loud, but let out a sigh, thinking only about Michael and Gina.   
“I believe you know my sister, Gina Gray.”  
“In what capacity do you speak?”  
“You murdered my sister, Mr Shelby. Soon, I will kill you and your sister, and your brother, too. Your daughter will no longer be a concern, either.”  
“I now have strong connections with members of the American government. If you as much as attempt to kill me or any relation to me, or the Shelbys, as there is a somewhat ‘friendship’ between us. your destiny would by no doubt hang.” Tommy said this before leaving the pub and returning to his house, entering the office, where he asked Ada and Arthur to come in. 

“So, Gina’s brother came to me in the Garrison. They know it was us,” Tommy began.   
“The American government will deal with them, right?” Arthur asked.  
“Most likely, brother. I just thought it important for you both to know, in case you receive any messages from her family and friends. We now know that her brother is in England, which likely means they are planning to attack.” There was a long pause; Ada and Arthur got the idea that Tommy needed to think, and left the room. Then Tommy called Alfie, who picked up from his office in Camden Town.   
“Hello, Alfie. I called you in Margate; your housekeeper said you are in London. What are you doing up there, Alfie?” Tommy asked.  
“Well, I’ve got business, you know.”  
“Have you heard anything about Gina Gray’s family being in England?”  
“It’s funny you should say that, Tommy. Three men came to my rum house a few days ago asking if I knew where Tommy Shelby was. I told them to fuck off, didn’t I, Tommy?”  
“Did they speak with anger or eagerness?”  
“Oh, common, Tommy. I just told the richest family in New York to fuck off, you couldn’t at least say thank you.”  
“Thank you, Alfie. I need some men brought down to watch the house. 5 grand.”  
“Fuck off, I’m not an idiot.”  
“Ten.”  
“When do you want them?”  
“The earliest you can send them.” Tommy hung up the phone, before he looked up upon hearing Ada’s footsteps coming towards him. He thought he hard Arthur’s footsteps too, but it wasn’t Arthur; it was a man Tommy hadn't seen before. He assumed Ada had found a man, but he looked far too old.   
“Tommy,” Ada began, interrupting the silence. “I noticed, you’ve been struggling recently, physically. You struggle to stand up, you avoid walking, and driving. I called in a doctor to see what was wrong.” Tommy sighed, but did not argue.

After examining Tommy for some time, the doctor explained, “Mr Shelby. Your sporting life, as well as your service in the war has resulted in your sustaining many injuries, through which you have been becoming weaker and weaker. I don’t think you can take any more bullets, Mr Shelby. It might just kill you.”  
“Come on,” Ada replied, Tommy having sat back down at his desk, head bowed. With a nod from Ada, one of the housekeepers led the doctor out.   
“What are we going to do, Tommy?”  
“I don’t know, Ada.” Tommy was interrupted by his phone ringing. “Yes.”  
“Hello, Tommy. It’s Alfie. Thought I’d tell you to turn your radio up, put the news on.” Alfie hung up the phone, and Tommy turned on the radio. 

Member of Parliament Oswald Mosley has been assassinated, suspects are unknown. Due to the lack of evidence, the case will not be further looked into. The British Union of Fascists was due to open in two weeks from today, so deputy leader, Thomas Shelby MP, will take over as leader of the party. Thomas has yet to make contact with the paper in relation to the matter. 

Tommy turned off the radio, and sighed long and hard. “Tommy, now you can bring the organisation down,” Ada explained.   
“It will be a long process, Ada. And we need to deal with the Americans. Everyone fucking needs me.”  
“People want answers. Mosley gave them answers. You need to correct those answers, and at least try to provide new ones.”  
“I’m trying, Ada. I can only do one thing at once these days. There’s a Parliamentary meeting later today. I will attend; address the issue, then I will come back and deal with the Americans.”

“After the devastating news of MP Oswald Mosley’s death, the Prime Minister has listed the development of my new party as a threat to democracy. Which is why I have decided to take it down a new road; a more… democratic and accepting route. While the Jews are… responsible for some of the things happening in the world, we must be accepting of their faith and beliefs.” There was around half of the room who clapped, the other half gave a groan and whisper. Tommy knew it would take more convincing, but he also had to deal with the Americans, and his exhaustion was only growing. 

As Tommy drove back to his house in Birmingham, he realised the extent of what he was doing. He was the leader of a fascist party through which he was giving information from to the British Government. He had to fake beliefs about judgement of the Jews, and he had one of the richest American families ready to kill him and his family. He hadn’t seen or spoken to his daughter in days, nor had he slept or eaten. He lived off whiskey and cocaine these days, occasionally eating, though whatever he ate, he made himself throw up. He thought about all this, which made the time of driving seem to go by fast. 

As he walked into the house, there was an eerie silence, one he did not recognise. Usually he heard Ada and Arthur in their offices, Ruby playing violin, and cooks and maids around the house, but there was silence. He dismissed it as nothing, and walked into his office, and what he saw was inexplicable. Ada, Arthur, Ruby, all on their knees in front of him, men behind them with guns against their heads. They were holding hands, Ruby and Ada were crying. Instinctively, he retrieved the gun from his holster, and cocked it.   
“I don’t think you’ll be needing that, Mr Shelby,” an American accent came from a man who was sitting at Tommy’s desk. As he turned to see who it was, he realised it was Gina’s brother, the man from the Garrison.  
“What do you want?” asked Tommy.  
“You dead,” explained Gina’s brother.  
“Then why are there guns pointed at my family, if it is me you want dead?”  
“A bit of… motivation.”  
“Is there no alternative?”  
“No.”  
“Very well. I want your word you will not harm my family. And, if you don’t mind, I’d like to do it myself.” Thomas held up his gun to his head.   
“Tommy don’t-,” Ada began. However, she was interrupted by a gunshot, Tommy falling to the floor. Ada and Arthur shot to death the Americans. Ada took Ruby away quickly, taking her away from her father on the floor, surrounded by men they had just killed. Arthur ran over to Tommy, in a desperate attempt to wake him up, his head still somehow in tact. “TOMMY!” he screamed, shaking his body. 

Tom gasped for air as his eyes opened, wheezing and coughing. Arthur leant back in a sigh of relief, “Tommy, how?  
“Sheep brains.”   
“You’re alright?”  
“Something’s wrong, Arthur. Something’s missing.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Something’s missing.”  
“I’ll call an ambulance.” Arthur did so, running to the telephone and calling for an ambulance. Reluctantly, Ada walked into the room, gasping in relief when she saw Tommy sat against the wall. He said nothing, but there was a look of utter confusion across his face.


	40. Chapter Forty

“While the bullet canister contained sheep’s brains, the impact was great, which has destroyed part of his brain,” the doctor explained. “It means he is going to struggle more with movement and action. While he will still be mobile, it will be restrained, and he will require more rest than you say he has, a lot more.”  
Ada replied, “Okay, thank you doctor.” The doctor understood the cue and left the room, just as Tommy was beginning to come around.  
“My god, how long have I been here for?” wheezed Tommy.   
“About two months, Tommy,” Arthur explained.   
“Why so long?” Thomas asked.  
“We’ve just been told by the doctor that the blow you took to the head damaged a part of your brain which controls movement. While you’re not entirely disabled, fortunately, your movement has been limited which means you cannot travel long distances, or overexert yourself.”  
“Fuck,” Tommy whispered under his breath. “Get me out of here.”  
“Discharge yourself?” asked Ada.  
“Yes, just get me out of here,” Tommy said, a half beg. 

Tommy sat at his desk, something feeling different. It felt like something was missing from him. He had his arms reaching to the end of the desk, and his head bowed. He could hear Ada and Arthur walk in and sit down in front of him, but he didn’t move.   
“Tommy,” said Ada. “It's been hours now; talk to us. We need to know you’re okay.”  
“And the commanding officer has been calling the phone in the hallway for some time now. I directed it to your telephone but he says you didn’t answer,” Arthur explained. Tommy wasn’t planning on giving an answer; luckily, the telephone interrupted the silence. Tommy picked it up, sitting up in his chair.  
“Hello, Shelby. It’s your commanding officer.”  
“Good afternoon, sir.”  
“I’m sure you’ve heard that the deed has been done.”  
“I have, thank you, sir.”  
“I’m sure it will be for the good of the country. Although I did hear you are continuing the cause he died for, is that correct?”  
“I don’t share his fantasy.” Tommy hung up the phone without saying anything further, or allowing the commanding officer to do so either. 

“Tom, we’re worried, you can’t do all this on your own,” Arthur explained.  
“You cannot possibly destroy the fascist concept on your own,” Ada agreed.  
“I can, Arthur, Ada. I have to. Because no one else will,” Tommy explained.  
“You can’t, Tommy. It’s destroying you. With every thing you do, the more legitimate we become, the more you break, the more enemies we make. One day, no one will be above us, and I have no doubt you will bring us to that. But we have lost everyone else; it won’t be long before we lose another, and I know that you will most likely be next if we don’t change things.”


	41. Chapter Forty-One

“Members of Parliament, I ask that as we move forward, we possess more understanding of our Jewish friends. We may have prejudged their uses in society.” Tommy was booed, forced to sit down. 

Back in his office in the Houses of Parliament, the phone began to ring. Tommy assumed it would be Ada or Arthur, but Maggie said it was Winston Churchill himself.  
“Hello, sir,” Tommy began.  
“Mr Shelby, I hear you have been attempting to break the cause of fascism. As your military mission is no longer active, you no longer have the responsibility of the party. You will step down as party leader and we will take over.” Tommy was relieved, but disappointed at the fact he could no longer bring down the party himself. Churchill hung up the phone after Tommy did not say anything in reply.   
“Fuck!” Tommy shouted to himself, slapping the table with both hands and standing up. 

After driving home, Tommy explained to Ada and Arthur. “So you’re not the leader of the party anymore?” asked Arthur. Tommy simply shook his head. “Good, now you won’t have to worry about it anymore.” Tommy scoffed. What would he do now?


	42. Chapter Forty Two

“I just received a call from a representative of Section D,” Tommy explained to Arthur. “They have ordered me to carry out an assassination on a political person of national importance.”  
“What did you say?” Arthur replied.   
“I said yes. Not only are they offering a substantial amount of money, but they are very powerful, the eyes and ears of the whole country. If I don’t do this, they will see to it that we all hang for one of our many fucking sins.”  
“Fuck.”  
“They’ve already threatened me. He says as Ada was a former member of the Communist society, who they are against, they have asked she doesn’t live in the same house while this business is taking place.”  
“But-.”  
“Or they’ll shoot her against a wall. And I do not doubt for a second that they would. These people, they don’t give a fuck about us.”  
“You’re not seriously going to do this, are you?”  
“I want you to go with Ada. Protect her.”   
“But Tom-.”  
“That’s all, Arthur.” Arthur knew there was no point arguing, so left the room, and went to tell Ada. It appeared they left the house, went back to Small Heath, perhaps. 

The phone began to ring, so Tommy picked up. “Hello, Mr Shelby. It’s Father John Hughes, from Section D.”  
“Yes.”  
“The date of the assassination has been brought forward.”  
“To when?”  
“This afternoon. The man you will kill is coming up to your house from London today to meet with you. You will carry out the assassination then. We own the judges and police so you will not be taken in.” Tommy sighed. He was not ready, or prepared for this. “Is your sister out of the house?”  
“She has just left. So has Arthur.”  
“Perfect.” Father Hughed hung up the phone.   
“Fuck!” Tommy shouted to himself. 

He waited, and waited, for the man to arrive, with his gun in his holster ready. His thoughts rushes with what he was going to do, who he was going to become. He could finally hear a car pull up outside, following this, a maid entered, who explained who it was. “Let him in,” Tommy explained. “All of you, go home. Have a break.” All the maids and cooks and cleaners of the house left without further comment, and with that, a man entered, well dressed with groomed hair. “Hello, Mr…”  
“Alder. And you are Mr Shelby?”  
“Yes. You were told to visit me on a political matter, yes?”  
“Yes, Mr Adler. You see,” Tommy began, standing up and walking towards the man. “I have been ordered to do something. I’m sure you’ll understand.” Tommy retrieved his gun from his holster and pointed it at Mr Adler.   
“If you have done your research on me, Mr Shelby, you would know that I served in India. A dark place, it was. I learnt to smell a liar a mile off.” The soldier proceeded to knock the gun from Tommy’s hands, push him against the wall, and push hard with his forearm against Tommy’s neck until Tommy couldn’t breathe. When it seemed as though Tommy wasn’t breathing or moving at all anymore, the man dropped him to the floor and spat on him. Tommy, just about awake, crawled and reached over to his gun, while the man was beginning to leave. He cocked and pointed it at the man’s head. Bang. Splat. Crash.   
Fuck,” Tommy wheezed, before coughing and breathing deeply and in plenty. “Fuck.” His thoughts raged on what to do with this body, but instead he called Father Hughes, who picked up the phone hesitantly.   
“It’s Thomas Shelby. It’s done. It’s done.” He struggled through his words.   
“I must say I am impressed. I will send someone with the money.”  
“Is that it? That’s what you want?”  
“Yes Mr Shelby. You say it as nothing.” Sick of his disruption and utter evil, Tommy hung up the phone, finally beginning to catch his breath. He then called Arthur, who picked up almost instantly.   
“Arthur, it’s Tommy.”  
“Are you okay Tom?”  
“I’ve killed the MP, Arthur. Can you, take it to rough land. I need to get to London.”  
“Yes, Tommy. Get some whiskey in you. You’ll get the shakes, when your blood cools down. Are you at the house?”   
“Yeah. Tell Ada she can come back.” Tommy then hung up the phone and left the room, locking it behind him. Arthur had the key. He left the house and climbed into his car, driving to the Houses of Parliament, where he sat in his office there for hours, filling and filing paperwork, making phone calls, most of which were about the institutions, some about the factories, and a few about the cause of socialism. 

But it met no match when Tommy opened the desk drawer, revealing the canister Tommy had offered Barney when he was in the insane asylum. After all this, Tommy had finally found peace, and was ready for nothing. He was ready to let go, finally. The drug would bring on a heart attack, it would just seem like Tommy had too much stress in his heart, which he had. Ada and Arthur and Ruby wouldn’t know that he had killed himself. Shaking, Tommy opened the canister and held it up to his mouth. He took his last breath, and began to drink the substance in it. It tasted sweet, but strong, sharp. Enough to end him. The liquid had only just gone into his mouth when Ada opened the door.   
“Tommy, I’ve been knocking the door-,” she interrupted herself with the sight of Tommy, having not swallowed half of the liquid. “Tommy what are you-” She knew. Tommy had shown it to her before he offered it to Barney, so she knew what he was doing. “Tommy, no!” she shouted, running over to him and smacking the substance out of his hand and holding him by the shoulders. “What are you doing?” she shouted at him. “You’re going to have to throw it up.” Beginning to feel the pain, Tom grasped his heart with his right hand. “You’ll have to gag yourself, Tommy.” Tommy did nothing, except cough and breathe jaggedly. Ada knew there was no way he would do it himself, so she held her fingers up and pushed them as far down his throat as she could, which brought up a thick layer of sickness, which sprayed in front of him. “Tommy, are you okay?” she asked through tears, “Get it all up,” while Tommy was continuing to throw up beside him. When he was finished, he sat up in his chair, pale face now in plain view, and Ada sat down in front of him. Tommy was still struggling through the attack. Though the pain was not unbearable yet, Tommy knew there was more to come, though it seemed it couldn’t get much worse. They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Ada finally spoke. “Tommy, why did you do that? I thought you were getting better with all this.” There was a moment’s silence. “You have a child, Tommy. Are you planning on making that child an orphan?” Tommy still said nothing, but now was gripping onto the edge of the table, struggling to breathe. “Tommy, you look grey. Are you okay?”   
“I’m fine, Ada,” Tommy explained, before coughing violently.   
“You’re sweating a lot, Tommy. Did you vomit it all up?” Tommy shook his head, taking off his flat cap and dropping it on his desk.   
“I’m fine, Ada. I have a meeting now if you could-.” Tommy couldn’t finish his sentence, but Ada knew what he was going to say, stood up and left the room. Next to walk in was Alfie Solomons, who came and sat in front of Tommy.   
“How’s political life treating you, Tommy?” Alfie began to ask. Tommy didn’t reply. “I just saw your sister walk out, looking pale as a ghost. I asked her what the fuck was up and she just walked past. I’m not the sort of person to be ignored now, am I?”  
“No, Alfie. I guess you’re not.” Tommy spoke as he breathed out.   
“What’s wrong?” Tommy stood up, but couldn’t handle the pain much longer, so fell to the floor and pressed his head against the desk drawer, gripping hard onto the wood. “Oh, common, Tommy, I can’t outlive you.”

While Tommy wanted to let go so much, he remembered Ada saying about Ruby, how she would have lost her whole immediate family before she hit ten. As much as Tommy wanted to die, he knew he had to pull through for his siblings and daughter. He could feel his eyes flickering open and closed, then Alfie watched his eyes roll back and forth between the front and back of his head like a game of tennis. Alfie, realising something was seriously wrong, ran out of the room and chased after Ada, who came back in on her own, running to Tommy’s side. “Keep me talking, Ada. It’ll keep me conscious,” Tommy asked.   
“Tommy.”  
“Tell Ruby I love her.”  
“You can tell her yourself.”   
“No, Ada.” There was a moment’s silence. “I’m a terrible father.”  
“No you’re not Tommy, it’s okay.”  
“I snapped at her this morning. I didn’t finish the story.”  
“What story? Tell me the story.”  
“I can’t, Ada. I don’t think I can. You’ll have to finish it for me.”  
“Yes you can, Tommy. Tell me the story.”  
“There was a little girl. And… she wasn’t scared of anything.” Tommy was coughing between words. “She-she wasn’t scared.”  
“And what happened.”  
“I took her to the zoo, she fell in the lion pen. And the daddy lion… He-he opened his mouth and roared at her.”  
“What did the girl do, Tommy?”  
“She. She. She roared back. She- even louder.” Tommy’s breathing became even more struggled, and Ada reached up to the phone, and called for an ambulance.   
“Tommy, there’s an ambulance on the way.”  
“I’m fine Ada. I just-.” Tommy lifted himself up and dropped his heavy body onto his desk chair.   
“Tommy, it’s okay, just breathe.”  
“I’m fine, Ada.”

When the ambulance arrived, they took Tommy to the hospital, worried for his life. 

“Ada,” Tommy murmured as he woke up in the hospital bed. Ada ran to his side.  
“I told them it was an accident, Tommy. They don’t know the cause, and there is not much known treatment. They are keeping you here for six weeks. You can’t get up, or eat. Apparently, it’s a treatment to not move for six weeks.”  
“I can’t- I have... work to do… and- Ruby. I need to get back to Birmingham.”  
“Tommy. Me, Arthur, the maids, we can all look after Ruby.”  
“I need to get back to Birmingham.”  
“No, Tommy. You’re staying here.” Tommy gave in, and didn’t reply. Ada stood for a few minutes, before leaving Tommy to his own thoughts. He thought for a long time about how he found himself in this position. He took a deep breath. A lot of nothing he would be doing for a while, something he hated. When he stopped, he thought, and when he thought, he became the man he hated.


	43. Chapter Forty Three

1st September 1939  
« Tommy. No more wars. We’re done. Our enemies are dead; all of them. For the first time, we have peace,” Arthur explained. Tommy simply nodded; he felt peace with himself. For the first time since France, he almost felt relaxed. He even passed a half smile over to his sister and brother, who returned them to him.   
The maid entered the room holding a portable radio and explained, “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but I think you may want to hear this.” She turned up the radio and all ears listened. 

_‘I have to tell you that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently, this country is at war with Germany.’_

Chamberlain’s words broke through their ears. Tommy’s heart dropped and his stomach churned. “Fuck,” whispered Arthur.   
“Fuck,” replied Ada. Tommy sat in silence. He shook his head before standing up and walking out of the room, out of the house. He walked to the stable where he climbed onto his horse and trotted into the fields, where he lit a fire, and stayed there until the day turned to night, and then the night turned to day. He thought and thought, but nowhere in his thought stricken heart or brain did it occur to him that he may have to fight once more. Then it did. He thought in silence for a long time, and when he looked back up, Ada and Arthur were no longer there.

He didn’t then think twice about it; he picked himself up from his desk, which was now a long term struggle since his accident. Tommy got in his car and drove to the nearest enlistment office, and signed up for the war. He had no idea when he would be aboarding his train to France, but he was in some ways ready to become Sergeant Thomas Shelby once more. He would await the call to say his train would be leaving, and have to break the news to Arthur and Ada.


	44. Chapter Forty Four

“No, Tommy. You’re not going,” Ada began. “I won’t accept it; you’re not going.”  
“I have to, Ada. For you two, for Ruby. I have to,” Tommy replied.   
“No. No, Tommy. I won’t let you,” she insisted.  
“Have you enlisted?” asked Arthur.  
“Yes,” Tommy replied. “I don’t know when the train leaves but it could be the end of the week or the end of the year.”

For the first time in so long, Tommy ate. He ate a lot, so much that he was sick. “Tommy, why are you suddenly eating so much, I’ve hardly seen you eat since I was born,” Ada laughed, with a twinge of worry and concern.   
“Because, Ada.”  
“Because what, Tommy?”  
“Because is always the answer.”  
“Why?”  
“Because.” He pauses for a minute. “In France, I thought at some points I was so malnourished and hungry that I couldn’t possibly go over the top or strike my spade one more time.”  
“So you’re eating now to make up for what you’re not going to?”   
“Dead right.”  
“Do you know when you’re going, yet?”  
“Yes, they sent me a telegram. I leave on Sunday.”  
“What’s today?”  
“Tuesday.”  
“What about Ruby? What about the company, Tommy?”  
“You’ll manage. You have Arthur, and you all were okay before, when we were in France.”  
“Tomy, what’s it going to take to make you stay?”  
“I have to. Ada. I’m not a coward.”  
“Fine, Tommy. But this time, you have to write to me when I write to you. You have to tell me what is going on. When you come back to England in between battles, I want to see you. You come home, you see Ruby, you see me and Arthur before you return. Yes?” Tommy nods yes, as he can’t bear to promise such things, because he knew there was a good chance he would never return. “Good.” She left the office in which this meeting was taking place. Tommy took a deep breath as he asked one of the maids to bring Ruby to him, which she did.

“Ruby, your dad… needs to go away for awhile,” Tommy explained to Ruby.  
“But you’ll come back?” she asked.  
“Hopefully.”  
“Were are you going?”  
“You remember hearing something on the radio about Germany?”  
“Yeah.”  
“I have to go and help. And the quicker we win, the quicker I can come home. Okay?”  
“Okay.” Ruby hopped off Tommy’s lap and left.

Thomas lorna cigarette and placed it between his lips. He sighed to himself.


	45. Chapter Forty Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically I had the idea that Tommy is in Dunkirk (evacuation from the beach, surrounded, etc.) so I set him up as the character Cillian Murphy plays in Dunkirk. You don't have to have watched Dunkirk to understand it but it'd probably help. It'll be in the next couple chapters and we also see some stuff from Tommy's POV

« Write to us, always, » Arthur said through tears.   
« I will, brother, » Tommy replied.   
Ada looked as if she were going to say something, but instead pulled Tommy into a warm embrace, “Write to me all you can. Come straight home when they discharge you.” Tommy didn’t reply, but gave her a side smile, before turning towards the train and walking away.

“Where you from?” one of the two men in front of him asked.  
“Birmingham,” Tommy replied. “Where are you from?”  
“Coventry,” the same man replied. “So’s me brother.” He pointed towards the young-looking boy next to him, who was sweating and fidgety.   
“This your first time?” Tommy asked both of them.   
“It’s his. I joined at the end of the last, when I turned eighteen. How about you?”  
“Yeah, I’ve been here before. With me brothers.”  
“Your brothers not doing it this time?”  
“Me older brother’s too old. And John, he, he died a while back.” Tom noticed the man’s brother who was yet to have spoken was looking very nervous. “It’s not as bad as they say it is.” He looked over at the man in front of him, the other one, and they exchanged a look, as if to say ‘follow me on this lie, or he’ll be on a train back home’.   
“What’s your name?” the older brother asked.  
“Shelby… Thomas,” Tommy replied.   
“Oh, MP?” he asked.   
“Yes, that must be the first time anyone has heard my name and said MP.”  
“In what sense.”  
“Let’s just say I have a… reputation… back in Birmingham. Born and raised gypsy, grew up the ranks. Trouble is with growing up the ranks…”  
“It takes some… doing,” the other boy said his first words.  
“Yeah, and it was majoritively illegal at first… what’s your names?”  
“I’m Robert, this is my younger brother, James,” Robert clarified. “Sergeant Major?” He could tell from Tommy’s uniform.   
“Yes, Privates?”  
“Yep,” James confirmed his ideas. “What family have you got waiting?”  
“Me brother and sister.”  
“Is that all?”   
“Yeah. In the process of… growing up the ranks, I lost a lot of family.”  
“How much, if you don’t mind my asking.”  
“Two girlfriends, a wife, my brother, aunt, cousin, another brother, my friend, lots of friends, actually. I killed my brother. » The two brothers in front of him exchanged a look. « Sorry, you don’t need to know this... »  
« Have you ever been shot? » asked the younger brother.   
« When? »  
« In France? »  
« Sure. I got a medal for one of them. »  
« One of them? How many have there been? »  
« I was in the tunnels. Got shot and stabbed in there. Nearly died. medics reckon i did die, but me brothers and me friend got me out just in time. Before that, in the trenches, I jumped in front of a commanding officer who was giving himself up, whom held information about attacks. Me first even bullet. »  
« How many of the people who died have you killed, of your family? » asked the younger brother. tommy didn’t reply for a moment. « sorry, that’s too much. »  
« no, no. it’s okay. michael, he tried- my cousin. he shot me, so i shot him. polly… aunt polly, she… sorry, i can’t. »  
« it’s okay, » reassured Robert.   
« What’s it like, in france? » james asked.   
« it’s loud, very loud. then it goes quiet and stays quiet… sorry. it’s not that bad. it’s worth it. »  
« what did you do with your medals? »  
« threw them in the canal. »  
« why? »  
« couldn’t look at them every day. »

Eventually, Thomas arrived in France, where he stood with Robert and James, where he hadn’t been in a long time.


	46. Chapter Forty Six

The date is May 26th 1940. 350,000 Allied Troops cornered by the Germans on the coast of Dunkirk beach, waiting to be picked off, one by one. Thomas rows back and forth between England and France on a rowing boat, picking men up, dropping them off back across the Chanel. There has just been a torpedo which has taken out yet another Destroyer. Thomas rows to the men, picking up as many as he can, having to tell the others with lifejackets to float and wait for his return. The row back begins.  
“Thank you,” cries one of the men, shivering. Thomas simply nods in his direction. It is dark now, so he could not be sure whether he could see him nod. Some time passes by, men around talking to each other, smiling about their rescue. Some of these who have been aboard and off ships numerous times in an attempt to be free of the Germans.   
“WATCH OUT!” someone aboard the boat shouts after a while. Tommy looks out to the sea, and jumps into the water. It’s cold, colder than ice, it seems. He swims away fast, before floating for a long time. 

Thomas spots something in the distance, what he believes to be an upturned boat. ‘Anything to get out of this water’, he thinks. He swims over to the metal, climbing up to a place out of the water. He removes his jacket, using it as a shield from the fast-blowing wind. It cannot be certain how long he sat there, but it was light now. He thinks he is dreaming at first. He looks up to see a sailor’s boat, with three men calling for him. There is an old-looking man, the oldest. A blonde, who was holding a rope out for him. And a young looking boy. 

_The blonde threw the rope at me, for me to hold onto, and after a moment’s hesitation, I leaped into the freezing water and grasped onto the rope. Could this be it? I thought. Is this my road to home? They pulled me up by the cuffs on my shoulders, and ushered me over to a bench on deck. The youngest lad with the dark hair brought me a blanket; he saw I was shivering. The older man asked me my name, but I gave no answer. The dark haired boy brought me a mug of tea, asking me if I wanted to come below deck, that it’s much warmer, out of the wind. He came closer with the tea, and I knocked it away. It reminded me of Freddie in the tunnels. He gave me the opium and I knocked that away, too.  
“Leave him be, George,” told the older man. “He feels safer on deck. You would too if you’d been bombed.” This felt like a good opportunity to make my first words to the men who saved my life.  
“U-boat,” my shaking voice told. “It was a U-boat.” The blonde told the dark haired, who now is named ‘George’, to get me some more tea. I did not object. _

_I ducked my head down, grasping the mug of tea in my right hand. I looked up, confused. There was smoke coming from the direction we were headed. I turned around to the elder man, and asked, “Where are we going?”  
“Dunkirk.”  
“No, uh, we’re going to England.”  
“We have to go to Dunkirk first.”  
“Look, I’m not going back. I’m not going back. Look at it.” I pointed to the smoke and exploding ships. “If we go there, we’ll die.”   
He took a moment to reply, but he did reply, “I see your point, son. Well, let’s plot a course.” He told me to take my tea below, to warm up. Relieved that soon it wouldn’t be dangerous anymore, I followed, lowering myself to the below deck, where I was ushered into a small room. The blonde passed me a fresh cup of tea, which I received with thanks. He left, shutting the door behind him. _

_I soon realised the door through which I entered was locked. He had locked me in. I started to bang on the door, quietly at first, expecting it to open. Then more, a little more. “Hello? Can you open the door?” The walls felt like they were closing in. what if a torpedo, or a U-boat came; I’m stuck, no means of escape. “Hello? Can you hear me?” My confusion soon turned to anxiety over my memories of being in a bedroom, the time before I killed family. “Open the door!” I rattled the door even louder now, unaware the blonde was standing outside. “Hello? Let me out!” I soon stopped bashing the door when I looked up, the window, my escape, leading me to the upper deck.  
“You haven’t turned around,” I realised I had been made a fool of as I said this to the older man and George.   
“No, we have a job to do.”  
“Job? This is a pleasure yacht. You’re weekend sailors, not the bloody navy. A man your age?”  
“Men my age dictate this war. Why should we be allowed to send our children to fight it.” I thought about Ruby back home, waiting for me, with Ada and Arthur, waiting for me to say I’m coming home, or waiting for the letter to say Death in Combat.   
“You should be at home!”  
“Well, there won’t be any home if we allow a slaughter across the Channel. There’s no hiding from this, son.”  
“What is it you think you can do out there, on this thing?”  
“There’s not just us. A call went out. We aren’t the only ones to answer, you know.”  
“ You don’t even have guns.” Their lack of protection alarmed me, made me realise how exposed we were to the Jerry.   
“Do you have a gun?”  
“Yes, of course. A rifle, a 303.”  
“Did it help you against the dive bombers and the U-boats?”  
I leaned my hand against the side of the boat, and looked at the floor, “You’re an old fool. I’m not going back. I’m not going back. Turn it around.”  
“I’m not turning around.”  
“Turn it around!” I shouted. “Turn it ar-.” When I realised my words made no difference, I knew I had to take action. I leant in to the steering wheel he was holding, trying to turn it. He pushed me away, but I kept trying. The blonde kept telling me to calm down, and in a way, I did when I looked down the stairs in front of me to see George, the dark headed boy, at the bottom. I took a seat on the chair behind me, another layer of guilt in my head, another body wrapped around my legs, weight for me to carry forever. He was alive, but looked in a bad way. I did not move. That’s someone’s son. Someone’s son, I may have just murdered. A child, here to save my life. _

_Eventually, I stood up and moved to the back of the boat, sitting on a chair with the water flowing next to me. I leaned my head on the wood, and for the first time since Greta died, I prayed. I prayed the boy would be okay, and that we would make it home alive. Ships, planes, spitfires and hurricanes flew overhead. One crashed into the sea, floating above for just a while. As I looked ,the boat drew itself closer and closer to the fallen plane. I know the remaining men, the blonde and the elder, were talking, but I drowned everything out so I couldn’t hear. If I heard bad news about George, I don’t know what I’d do._

_Now sat on another part of the upper deck, having moved numerous times, nerves, I think, the blonde walked so he was now there with me, collecting the same rope he had used to save me. He looked angry, no shit. “Is he alright? The boy?”  
“No. No, he’s not.” I heard explosions in the distance, so braced my head, partially for protection, but mostly to stop him seeing my pain. I slowly looked above the wood, seeing a sinking ship, with black smoke emerging. Planes fighted above.   
“There’s men in the water!” the blonde shouted, pointing to the ship. Two other small boats were heading the same way. I felt the boat’s direction change, as we moved towards it. I looked to the other side of the boat; the pilot and the blonde helping men up and over. They were covered head to toe in oil, and as quickly as I thought about what must have happened, I stopped myself. _

_I stood up from where I was, and began helping the men myself. I was still drawing back my breath, which had been gone for some time now. Since last week, I’d say. I followed the blonde, who was behind the soldiers heading below deck. I don’t hear what the soldier said, but the blonde looked disoriented when his head moved back up.  
“Um, will… will he be okay? The boy?”  
“Yeah,” the blonde replied after a moment’s hesitation. I couldn’t tell whether he was lying to save me the pain, or telling the truth. I know not to trust anyone, especially when you’ve hurt someone they love. I know that first hand. I hoped the latter was true, and moved back to were I was at the back of the ship. Still helping men onto the boat, I looked up to see a plane heading in our direction, where the oil caught fire, killing so many. We drew away in just the right time, and got away. _

_A plane started heading in our direction, while the blonde was waiting for the right moment to draw away. I was cautious, the chance of this working was slim, and bullets fired as he hit the ground. People all around cheered at the British plane that brought it down, saved us all. I was holding on to the side of the boat, but the older man helped me to the middle of the boat, were it is slightly warmer. I think he did this for my benefit. They were talking about their children, how one of them is RAF. I think he knew this was a conversation I’d rather not be a part of, and he was right. He patted my shoulder, but I didn’t move once I had committed to the seat inside._

_Finally, the smell of England brought us home. I stepped off the boat, relief flooding me. It was dark now, but none of that mattered. The boy would be okay, and I could see my family again. I turned around, seeing a small-looking stretcher with a blanket covering a body being lowered from the boat onto the ground. I didn’t know what to say. The blonde had seen me, knew I was looking, so I left before he could say much else to me. We walked along the train tracks, our road to home. Once on the train, I sat in a place, without taking a look at who was in front of me.  
“Do I know you?” one of the men asked when I looked up. They were familiar, but a distant memory. “From the way here? The MP?” James, from before. Though, the older brother wasn’t with him, but a man I hadn’t seen before. I thought the worst, assumed the worse, but did not know it to be true just yet. _

“Yes. Thomas Shelby,” Thomas noted, more of a whisper, still cold from the chill of the winds across the Channel.   
“Mr Shelby?” asked the other man. “Aren’t you a bit old for this shit?”  
“How do you…” James asked, confused.  
“I live in Small Heath, and I worked at the Garrison. Impossible not to know your name.”  
“You alright, James?” Tommy asked, noticing his clear disturbance.  
“Y- I…”  
“It’s alright, we’ve all been there,” the waiter commented.   
“No, it’s not that. It’s my brother… he… he died.”

_It’s like everyone I touch becomes a slave to this curse I have upon me. I do not think this is a coincidence that he died after speaking to me, and that his brother now happens to be sitting opposite me.  
“I’m so sorry,” I say under my breath, almost a whisper. “Did he die well?”  
“We were together, on a ship, on our way home… something came, a U-boat or dive bomber or something. I managed to swim away, but… he didn’t. He was still under the deck, and I saw him go down…”  
“I’m sorry…”  
“No, it’s not… it’s not your fault.”  
“No, it… it is.” How do I explain this one to someone who looks like he’s never even heard of Gyspy Witchcraft. I looked to the man from my town, who turned to James, ready to explain. Then he must have realised if he said something wrong he’d die without his eyes, so he didn’t say anything.   
After clearing my throat and scoffing, I explained. “I’m not gypsy anymore, but I still have Romani blood, always have. Now, there’s a side to Gypsy people don’t often know about. The witchcraft, the curses. Now, it is common knowledge now in Birmingham and Small Heath that the Shelby family have been cursed. Essentially, almost all of the people I have ever opened up to or become moderately close to have died. My sister says it’s anyone I touch. She must be right.”  
What I had essentially just explained was that I am responsible for his big brother’s death. Which explains why he lunged at me. I didn’t stop him, but some of the other lads from the carriage did. He got in a few punches, which again I took._

_We sat back how we were, in silence for some time. The boys in front of me, and all around, had some well deserved sleep to cure their exhaustion. I spent the majority of the time trying to get my breath back, but it seemed unreachable. Something changed on the hull of that ship, something in me. Somehow, I seem to have broken more._

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to point out if it's becoming weird that when I wrote this chapter and the first few chapters, I thought consumption was the name for overdosing. Obviously it's not, it's tuberculosis, but if you're confused, that's why. 
> 
> I wrote this after I first watched Peaky in 2019, so things are a bit weird, I've watched it many more times since, etc.


End file.
